


Hollow Ascension

by EchoedMusic, tinallie



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Eventual OT6, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Major Character Injury, Source and Inheritor AU, Superpowers, longfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 117,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoedMusic/pseuds/EchoedMusic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinallie/pseuds/tinallie
Summary: Ryan has no idea what to expect when he comes back to his city and ends up wrapped up in this superpower nonsense. But with someone trying to collect the source of the powers, it’s in the best interest of everyone to work together. Maybe it would work if Ray actually shared his feelings, Jack and Geoff figured out how love worked, and Michael and Gavin shut up for just one fucking second.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a long walk through the office building, even longer than usual with the steady pace Geoff had resolutely kept. He slowed a touch to wave to the other business owners closing up for the day with a charming smile on his face, and continued to the elevator. He held it open for Ashley, who owned a mail-order only soaps and scrubs company. She always took home some of her work for the day and smelled of so many different kinds of flowers that it was hard to breathe around her, but Geoff courteously waved her in and asked about her day as he pressed the button for the ground floor. It was oddly appropriate that he stood like a doorman, all straight lines and shoulders held back. They chatted briefly, all smiles, and she thanked him on her way out.

Geoff liked Ashley; she didn’t give him funny looks for the tattoos running up his arms, unlike many of the business owners. Regardless, he was glad she was gone as he waited for the elevator doors to close and descended another two levels down to the basement.

Once he stepped foot on uneven pavement his demeanor changed, shoulders hunched in a little and hands found their way into pockets. He trudged past a multitude of machinery keeping the office running—one for running water, another for electricity, the breakers all labeled in the far corner tucked next to a boiler, and hidden to the right in the corner was a door Geoff had installed himself. He was proud of it though it was tilted slightly, and squeaked monstrously every time he had to wrench it open.

Rapping tattooed knuckles against the thick wood, he waited for the occupant inside to open up. A red beard was the first thing to be noticed by nearly everyone who met Jack, but the casual air about him was so strong no one was ever really threatened by the burly stature he sported as a six foot tall man.

“Any luck?” Geoff asked, calmly stepping around his partner in crime, ignoring the shriek of metal on metal. There were no fake smiles for Jack, and he would have looked at him strangely if he had tried. He wandered his way into the small room, leaning against the wall.

“Not a peep of anything important. He keeps saying he doesn’t have the money, wants an extension on delivering the goods, blah blah blah. It’s the same story we always get.” Jack shrugged, glancing at a second door in the opposite corner. Geoff followed his gaze, then shot Jack a look.

“You hurt him yet?”

Jack gave him an equally flat look and rolled his eyes. “What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time, throwing a tea party?” He looked like he’d been the one beaten, hiding pain behind a mask.

“What you do in your spare time isn’t my business.” Geoff shot back with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. He pushed off the wall, and picked up a glass from a table huddled in the small room. Picking up the liquor bottle that was next to it, he poured himself a small glass and sipped.

“Please, Geoff.” Jack heaved a tired sigh. “I’m so tired of being shit on by these guys. I don’t know how they stay in business cheating their buyers all the damn time.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and gestured for the glass. Geoff handed it to him with a sour look, and poured a second.

“Yeah, well, it’s our fault for letting it slide. We haven’t exactly been throwing around as much blood as we have money. That’s what it takes in this city.” Geoff watched Jack take a gulp, cringing as the whiskey burned. Jack hated whiskey. This guy must be really screwing with him, Geoff thought. He took a sip of his own alcohol as Jack replied.

“No, that’s what it takes for the bosses. We aren’t exactly packing enough punch for that.” Jack tapped his glass, deep in thought.

“They don’t know that Jack, that’s the whole point of a reputation.” Geoff made his way through a small sea of opened wooden crates, knocking his knee against an off kilter lid that they hadn’t properly put back, spilling some of his drink. “Sonuvabitch! We need to clean house.”

“Add it to the list. Craig isn’t talking, so what do you want to do?” Geoff paused in pushing the stray lid off him.

“Make him talk, obviously.”

Jack scoffed in irritation, rubbing his beard. “Yeah, I got that much. How do you plan on doing that, Geoff?”

Geoff didn’t respond, but continued his way through the large room to another door that Geoff had also installed, almost as off-kilter as the first. The office building was lower budget and the owner really skipped on maintenance, so by offering to do it for a too-good-to-be-true rate, Geoff ensured not only full access to the basement but the freedom to turn it into whatever he wanted without the fear of a nosy building owner sending routine inspectors down to discover his hard, albeit shoddy, work. Building was more Jack’s specialty, anyways.

Picking a location for dirty business was much more tedious than it seemed, in Geoff’s opinion. You had to be careful about where you chose to set up shop, as most places in Achievement City were already taken or too obvious, not to mention it seemed like every lousy upstart picked the same spot to begin their business and turf wars were a bitch. This building was in the perfect location, they were inconspicuous and friendly to the other tenants, and had an in with the owner.

The door still got stuck on the uneven ground from time to time, but with a kick it scraped against the concrete as it opened. Geoff frowned at their no-good dealer, Jack had certainly dealt him some damage; blood was flecked across the walls where a good hit had connected with the guy’s bloody mouth. Jack tended to stay away from doing too much damage with weapons to people like this in case they accidentally killed him. His head was hung and Geoff could hear the rasp of a man with broken ribs.

Well, if he hadn’t broken yet, there was a good chance they’d have to kill him. The guy was pretty independent and Geoff wasn’t sure that word would spread about his death. There wasn’t really a point if it didn’t build their reputation. So that left just beating the guy’s shit in until he gave up or letting him go with a friendly warning not to cross them again. Geoff preferred the former, but he mostly just wanted his money.

Leaving the door open, Geoff downed his whiskey. He’d need it for this, he thought. Even as heartless as he could be he’d never enjoyed interrogations. Steeling himself, he cleared his throat, letting the injured man know he wanted to chat. As he looked up, the man sneered, making his lip split bloody again. Craig spat at Geoff’s feet, managing to look defiant through the obvious pain he was in, and Geoff had to appreciate the backbone the kid had.

“I’m not telling you anything,” the man rasped, “So you should just kill me now.” Jack pushed his way past Geoff and sat in the chair across from Craig.

“We need that money, Craig.” Geoff kept his voice flat and emotionless, and he knew that he was dangerous, but more importantly Craig did as well. Even so, he shook his head at Geoff and coughed out a laugh.

“I don’t have it, and I don’t have anything you want, so I don’t know why you’re still bothering!” With a rising voice their captive began to look tense, looking around the room as if to escape. Geoff rolled his eyes. With those ribs there was no way he’d get far if he got past the two full grown men in the room.

“You say you don’t have anything we want, but I don’t know what you have. Convince me you have something I want, and I won’t kill you in the most painful way you can imagine. Or maybe,” Geoff raised an eyebrow, looking Craig up and down, “I’ll just sell you into prostitution? Not something I usually support, but I think I could make an exception.”

Craig visibly paled, and Geoff smiled, all sharp, vicious teeth. It would be a fitting punishment given Craig’s involvement in child trafficking, the scumbag. After a few moments of silence, he broke.

“Look, maybe—maybe I do have something, but—” Craig began stuttering, but cut himself off with a choked laugh. “You would never believe me! You’re better off just killing me, I’m telling you.”

Jack looked sidelong at Geoff, irritated. Hours, he must have worked on him, just to have Geoff waltz in and give him information. Geoff nodded at Jack, signaling him to take point. Jack sighed, and addressed Craig.

“Okay, say we believe you. Say we don’t care what it is you have to give us, we just need compensation. What then?”

Geoff watched Craig sweat, and shifted impatiently. He glanced around for a chair, hearing their captive squeak. Jack watched with mild amusement, as he saw the tray of torture instruments out of Geoff’s reach just as Craig did. 

“Alright! Alright! Just don’t, okay?” Shrugging, Geoff turned around and decided to stand. He’d pull in a second chair later, if this took much longer. Taking a deep breath, Craig continued. “There’s this guy, right? And he’s like, uh, he’s special, you know? I—” With a sharp motion, Jack cut him off.

“We don’t exactly care if you’re in love with some guy, we want money,” Craig shook his head sharply, grimacing.

“I’m not in love- he’s powerful, I guess. Can do things other people can’t,” Jack and Geoff’s eyes met. “He’s really good with a sniper rifle. He can hit a shot from so far away, you don’t even know you’ve been sniped. I can take you to meet him, you’ll understand when I show you—”

“Stop. So you’ll take us to him, fine. That doesn’t cover your bill, Craig.” Geoff said darkly. “And he’s going to be willing to just work for us for free? I seriously doubt that.”

“You don’t know him! He’s like, _really_ special, man.” He looked so earnest Geoff wanted to believe him, but the blood dripping from his chin spoiled that a bit. “He’s been looking for a crew to join, I just need some time to convince him.”

Geoff nodded towards the door, and Jack followed him as he left. Jack closed the door with an effort, and rubbed a hand over his face. Geoff would have to make him sleep after this, he looked exhausted.

Jack sighed and said, “I think we should meet his contact, get at least something out of this. Having a sniper could come in handy.” Inwardly Geoff agreed, but it would be dangerous and cost them money more likely than it would earn them any. Jack was recently recovered from an injury, and Geoff cared more for his safety than filling every debt owed them.

“I say we just kill him and dump the body. Faster and easier cleanup than covering our tracks with some ‘special dude’.” Geoff said with sarcasm. And air quotes. He knew Jack wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded, but he could try.

“We don’t exactly have the funds to hire him yet, but maybe he’ll do a favor for this friend of his,” Jack said, hopefully, not looking at Geoff. He didn’t look excited at the prospect, though.

“Please, like anyone would do this dipshit any favors! Jack, we need to move on, find something better to do. You don’t like torturing people, so let’s not. Call it even with the idiot dead.” Geoff was worried, he didn’t want Jack in any more danger than he had to be, and he couldn’t exactly meet the mystery man alone.

“Geoff,” Jack looked him solid in the eyes, face softening at what he saw. “We need this.” Geoff sighed, rubbing a hand over his arm, and closed his eyes.

“I know. I don’t want to, though,” He admitted.

“We don’t have to hire him, but we may as well try, right?” Geoff knew he was caught, and let his face twist into unhappiness. Jack caught on and added, “We can’t get as big you want us to be just by ourselves. We’re going to have to hire people eventually.”

“Fine, but afterwards we’re going home and playing Minecraft.” Jack chuckled, and turned to wrench the door back open.

Getting Craig to his feet wasn’t a struggle like Geoff thought it would be, but after passing him a phone, the two of them worked to shove him through the still untouched sea of opened crates. For a man who braved the street life like he claimed, Craig was slow, taking his sweet ass time on the phone. While they both listened, they realized there was absolutely zero chance whoever he was talking to was going to back him up in a fight. It sounded more like a “I know a guy who knows a guy” kind of a deal, and the nervous chatter was grating to listen to.

Either way, they were finally back up the elevator then out of the now abandoned office building and in the small SUV Jack owned.

Getting to the meeting point had started sketchy, the typical setup of “Just follow me, I’ll get us there” but Geoff had shut that down so hard the directions were babbled seconds after. It was quite the drive, and Geoff literally had nothing better to do than more digging while Jack calmly navigated through evening traffic clogged streets.

“Alright, spill. What makes this guy so special?”

Craig shifted, held onto his seat belt tight with one hand while the other guarding uncomfortably around his broken ribs. He looked out the tinted window, shifted, winced, and swallowed hard.

“Look, I’m not supposed to say anything, get me? This is the kind of stuff the government makes people disappear for. Area 51 type shit.”

Jack slammed on the breaks and if Geoff hadn’t completely understood the knee-jerk reaction to the words “Area 51” and also hadn’t enjoyed the agonized groans from the back seat the jarring stop had produced, he would have ripped Jack a new asshole. The car behind them honked a few times before Jack rolled down the window and flipped them off before the car stuttered to a start again.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Fuck, oh god,” Craig wheezed, “jus’—jus’ listen okay?”

“If you’re fucking with us, Craig,” Geoff warned in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper, “I’ve got the Vagabond on fucking speed dial.”

Craig didn’t stop his wheezing, but raised an eyebrow at the threat. “The fuck you talking about? That guy’s dead as shit.”

Geoff blinked back at him. “What the fuck are _you_ talking about? You know who I’m talking about, right?”

“Black mask, likes all things terrifying?” Craig swallowed again and shook his head. “Nah, some guy took him out a couple of weeks ago. He’s dead.”

“Okay, Mr. Area 51. I’ll fucking believe that when I see his head on display in the museum.” Geoff scoffed.

“Yeah, man. Look, whatever. He’s dead, alright? Just- I’m not fucking with you, I swear.”

“We’ll see.” Geoff didn’t trust him, didn’t even like him, but the meeting was more important.

“Look, it sounds crazy, but even kids are talking about it. You’ve heard of that bridge incident three weeks ago, right?”

“You talking Bellamy Bridge?” Jack threw on his blinker last second and jerked them right, almost missing their turn. “The semi accident? Like twenty people died or something.”

“Yeah, that one. Those people didn’t die ‘cause of no semi-truck, you get me?”

“No. No I’m not getting you.” Geoff was annoyed. He didn’t care about whatever conspiracy this guy had cooked up about one of the many tragic accidents of the city. It was a dangerous enough place without the crazies stirring up some half-assed explanations for it. “Stop beating around the bush and just say whatever you’re trying to say.”

“Word is that the cops are keeping things quiet ‘cause they’ve been experimenting on something. Bellamy Bridge lit up like a candle cause some guy can light fire to anything.”

“Experiments? Dude, it doesn’t take much more than gasoline to light anything up.”

“He can control it. I know a guy who was there—saw the whole thing go down.”

“So where’s this friend of yours? He the guy we’re meeting, Mr. Special?”

Jack rolled his eyes at Geoff’s antagonistic replies, even if he didn’t totally like what the guy was saying either. He flipped on the blinker, realizing he’d need to turn left in another block.

Craig was hesitant at the silence, but swallowed and spoke up again. “No, that guy who saw it go down went missing last week. S’why everything’s so secret, you know? If they know you know you’re done. Someone comes in, nabs you, and you go for a swim at the bottom of the ocean. The guy who could control fire? He’s missing too.”

“Okay, so the pyromaniac went to jail or whatever—if your missing source was telling the truth. What exactly does this have to do with Mr. Special?”

“Yeah, see, the guy who controlled the fire wasn’t the one who was special.”

“Yeah, we went over this. Jack, did you hit him too hard in the head or something? I swear he got stupider after I left you alone with him.”

“Don’t blame me!” Jack gripped the steering while harder.

“Look, I’ll just let him explain.” Craig mumbled, leaning heavily against the window.

The rest of the drive was left in stale silence, Craig’s sharp coughing punctuated the whole car every so often. They pulled into a parking lot and Craig pointed at a dingy vape bar.

“Seriously?” Geoff turned around in his seat to question how stupid this was. This was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

“Yeah, guy likes it here. Feels safe. We need him to feel safe.”

At least Craig was smart enough to wait to be let out of the car. If the moron had taken off Geoff had plans to shoot out both kneecaps and then pour an entire bottle of brandy over the wounds. Scratch that, half a bottle. The other half would be for him, for putting up with this shit. Jack kept a gentler hand on Craig’s shoulder as they allowed him to lead them in and through the smokey vape bar. The lights were dimmer, most likely to accommodate the sensitive eyes that a good high brought.

In the far corner was a kid on his cell phone, fingers breezing over the glass screen rapidly. He was wearing a purple hoodie, a black tee with some sort of creatures on the front Geoff didn’t recognize, and a pair of jeans. He didn’t stand out from any of the other patrons and he certainly didn’t look the part of “Mr. Special”.

Jack released his grip and the two of them allowed Craig to trail ahead a bit, to greet his contact without them looming ominously from behind.

“Yo, Ray.”

“Fuck, dude, who’d you piss off?” was the returned greeting, “Tell me it wasn’t those two behind you.”

Craig shifted and that was all that was needed to tell the story. The kid, _Ray_ , simply sighed, shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, and crossed his arms. Geoff felt a weird buzzing in his left palm and flexed his hand a bit.

“Ray, listen, you said you needed a crew, right? These guys have an opening and—”

“Yeah, I got that part over the phone. What I want to know is why you’re trying to sell me out.”

“What? No, Ray, it ain’t like that.”

“Dude your face says it all. What the fuck is all of this?”

“He says you’re _‘special’._ ” Geoff supplied. “Said you’d be able to explain that to us.”

Immediately Ray’s posture changed from relaxed but annoyed, to rigid and hateful. He turned his icy glare on Craig. “What the fuck did you say to these guys?”

“Ray, listen, they don’t know what I know, I swear. I just—you said—and after Marcus went missing I thought—”

“What,” Ray asked slowly, meeting eyes with Jack first, then Geoff quickly after, “did you think telling them was going to do?”

“No, I didn’t tell them you were _that_. I just said—”

“As much fun as being left in the dark is, unless we get answers to this little mystery, I’m going to have to kill your friend. He’s annoying the hell out of me and he owes us a lot of money, so.” Geoff waved his hand in a dismissive manner and Jack shrugged in passive agreement.

“Well, not my friend, so do what you want.” Ray shrugged as well and made a move to walk by, but Craig desperately reached out and grabbed at his purple sleeve. “What?”

“They could help. You know, keep you underground and away from like the Feds or—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Ray took in a breath and let it back out slowly. He turned to Geoff, looked him down, then back up again. The buzzing in his palm continued and Geoff scratched at it in irritation. “Craig said you’re looking for a sniper?”

“Could use one, maybe.” Jack shrugged. “Depends on how much you cost.”

Ray seemed to contemplate that for a moment, then flicked his eyes back to Craig, who still hadn’t let go of his hoodie. Geoff wasn’t able to decipher what silent conversation was going on between them, but in the end they received a jerk of the head and the three of them followed Ray outside and around the corner.

“Look,” Ray started, once he’d taken up a comfortable position against the outside of the bar, “I know who you are. You’ve got a nice lock down on heroin by the pier and I bought a gun from one of your guys not too long ago. From what I’ve heard you aren’t into too much and you like to keep things simple and clean. If this is a power move, I’m not interested. I like to keep out of the game if I can.”

“This isn’t for power.” Jack assured him, using what Geoff had dubbed his “mom voice”. “We’ve grown a bit bigger than just the two of us and having a set of eyes keeping watch would be a bit of a load off of my shoulders.”

Ray nodded slowly, still looking unimpressed.

“Let’s be honest, here, the only reason we’re even having this conversation right now is because Craig here insisted you were special. I’m still waiting to hear what exactly special means.” Geoff prodded, still contemplating pulling out his gun and blowing Craig’s kneecaps off anyways. “As much as I agree with Jack here, we’ve been running things just the two of us for a long time and there’s still the issue of how much you cost.”

Jack and he worked the best when they disagreed; the back and forth tended to ease negotiations and lighten the mood, but also put a sense of urgency on whatever offer they were willing to put down. The thought that they could walk away at any second with no deal tended to stress out a lot of the less seasoned dealers, and they worked that over as best they could.

The sensation in his left palm turned to heat, and the buzzing slithered up his arm like a whip, into his head. The next thing Geoff knew he was no longer next to the vape bar with Jack and Ray with the sun just starting to go down, but with Craig alone. It was clearly nighttime, and Geoff’s head spun a little.

Craig was shaking in fear, but the blood on his face was gone, and he looked showered and healthy. He was wearing different clothes—similar to the ones he’d just had on, but with a slight variation; Geoff didn’t think anyone would wear so much orange willingly, but Craig was apparently just that kind of person. Someone was in front of him, arm outstretched, reaching for him, but there was still a car’s length of space between the two. Geoff couldn’t make out any details of him hiding in the dark like he was, but he could clearly read the fear on Craig’s face.

“Where’s the Source?” The voice was deep, older and commanding.

“No, wait! Just wait!” Craig whimpered and took a couple of rapid steps back. Whoever was in front of him didn’t bother to follow.

“Where is he?” the voice demanded again, and when Craig didn’t answer a moment later, too frozen in terror, the hand squeezed shut. In an instant, metal was flying through the air and slicing through skin. Blood sprayed and Craig wailed in pain.

Geoff jumped back, eyes refocusing on Jack, Ray, and Craig. Alive. The brick of the outside of the vape bar was back, the sun was still in the sky, and there was no trace that anyone had been there with them. Craig was still relatively in one piece, though his face was back to beaten and bloody.

He could feel the sweat pouring down his back, and he felt like he was on fire. Shrugging off the leather jacket he had donned for the meeting, he could feel the inside lining was soaked.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, hand brushing against Geoff’s shoulder. “You just went blank there for a minute.

“I have no fucking clue what just happened.” Geoff managed to answer after a moment, furrowing his brows. He looked back at the other two standing opposite of them. Ray was leaning far more heavily against the side of the bar, looking just as shaky as Geoff felt.

“Did you…?” Geoff trailed off for a moment and shook his head. He felt a bit fuzzy, like there was something he was forgetting.

“What are you talking about?” Jack shifted more protectively in front of him, hands on both his shoulders now and moving to move Geoff away from the others. “Geoff, did you have a stroke or something? Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I’m fine. I just saw… whatever, I’ll tell you later.” Geoff gently brushed off Jack’s hands and sent him a quick reassuring smile.

“What did you see?”

Geoff blinked, then leaned to see around Jack. Ray hadn’t budged an inch from his spot, eyes behind sleek square glasses narrowed, trained carefully on him. Geoff didn’t really want to try to figure out what the hell that meant just now.

He shrugged, and shook his head. “I just saw some guy kill Craig in the weirdest hallucination ever.”

Craig went pale and turned, mouth agape to Ray. “Shit, did you just…? Oh god.”

“You saw it or you just thought about it?” Jack quirked an eyebrow, still very concerned. He was shit at keeping the mother hen in him hidden.

“Nah, saw it. It was night out and you two weren’t there. I’m telling you, I’m not crazy, but I think I might be crazy.”

“Well shit.” Ray mumbled, looking annoyed.

“Wait, did you see—?”

“Nah.” Ray shrugged. “I don’t see things.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He sees the future? Is that what you just did?” Craig asked, voice up two panicked octaves from the last time he opened his mouth. “Fuck, I’m dead.”

Wait. There was a far-away feeling that came from Craig’s blithering. Geoff felt lightheaded, but he noticed the buzzing in his left palm was gone. That was weird. Unless it wasn’t. The far-away feeling dissipated and with a snap Geoff was back to feeling normal and desperately trying to put things together in his head.

“Is that what you meant by special?” He turned towards Ray. “You can make me see things?”

“The future, apparently.” Ray corrected tiredly. “But yeah. Now that I know I can’t control this as well as I thought, and you’ve actually got something useful, I guess I should work with you for a while.”

“Would someone fucking tell me what’s going on?” Jack moved to pull Geoff away again, this time shielding him, when Ray waved a hand, gesturing closer.

“You guys heard of the Bellamy Bridge incident?” Ray sunk down the side of the building, resting his arms on the tops of his knees.

“Christ, not this again.” Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It is not a conspiracy—”

“Not a conspiracy, an incident. There was an outbreak of fire. Police will say it was a semi that crashed and blew up,” Ray stated, “but it wasn’t a semi and there was actually a guy who was throwing literal balls of fire. But what nobody else knows is that the guy throwing fire was actually only able to throw fire because his friend was feeling funny and accidentally gave him the ability.”

“And you would know that because…?” Jack trailed off slowly. Geoff needed another drink, watching Jack figure the logic out of what had just happened to him.

“I know the friend. His name is Marcus and he went missing last week. He was talking to me about it, about how it felt, and I told him I was getting the same feeling every once in awhile. We had a little chat, he said he was scared and so he went crawling to some asshole going by the name ‘Corpirate’ for protection. That was the last I saw of him and it’s taken me a while, but I figured out what the fuck that feeling was. Certain people trigger it, it’s like this weird buzzing. Usually I can just walk away from someone and it goes away, but apparently I don’t have control over it today.”

“This is some crazy shit.” Geoff breathed, pulling at the front of his shirt to let the cooling air in. He was still too hot, too thirsty, and too sick of this shit. 

“Yeah, well, you can see why I don’t want anyone to know. Whatever it is, it’s different with different people. The last time this happened to me I shrank a dude.” Ray shrugged nonchalantly. “He went back to normal and I got the fuck out of there before anyone could figure out it was me, but as far as I know, I don’t control any of it.”

“So what, you just give people the ability to do crazy shit?” Jack scrubbed a hand through his beard and turned to look back at Geoff. “And you were able to see the future?”

“It felt fucking real. I felt it, that weird buzzing. It was on my hand and it was bugging me, and then I saw—” He cut himself off, confused. He didn’t seriously just see the fucking _future_ , did he?

“Yeah, I could feel you doing whatever it was that you were doing. I can usually feel when people can do things, but it felt like you were _pulling_ on me.” Ray adjusted his glasses before tugging the hood of his hoodie up over dark hair. “All I know is that it’s not safe for people to know what you know. As long as you keep your mouth shut about it, I’ll work with you. Having someone who can see into the future would be useful.”

Geoff glanced over to Jack, who made eye contact for a moment before shrugging. “Done. We’ll go over details later, let’s get the fuck out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**-Seven Months Later-**

 

Ryan would admit it had been a while since he’d left the city in search of a few stray problems, but he’d never expected the city to have changed _this_ much in the seven months of his absence.

There wasn’t a soul in the city who didn’t know his name as the Vagabond. Ryan smugly enjoyed the respect he received from lesser criminals that wanted to deal in his city and was happy to instigate the feeding frenzy. However, that was months ago and his services were expensive, not to mention his flair for the dramatic ended in massacres more often than not. Now there were leaders with more men than previous gangs and connections even he was impressed with, but they were mistaken if they thought the Vagabond wasn’t _very_ available for business and more than willing to tack on a pricey first job fee.

As he considered this, he realized he had walked longer than expected. He had been surveying his domain, seeing the new tags on buildings he knew well, and the whispers that followed his movements. Good, he wanted everyone to know he was back. The sun had started its descent long ago, allowing only a sliver of gold to peek across cloud covered skies, soon muffled when streetlights had kicked on. Ryan trudged on in streets bathed in artificial light while leaving other dangerous ends in a cloak of darkness to hide away the more criminal activity.

Ryan skulked around the corner of such a street to duck into a dark alley, which he knew was wider than most. One side was lined with the normal dumpsters and trash, the other cleared for traffic that might need to pass. His heavy boots splashed in a small puddle and he rounded another corner with a whistle on his lips. These alleys weren’t much changed in seven months, there were only a few drug dealers who tended to wander here from time to time, and it still seemed relatively devoid of life. Such was the life of crime; once the cops caught on to the common grounds it was time to switch locations, but only if the cops were dicks about it and actually gave chase. They didn’t tend to waste their time on lowly dealers, instead focusing more on Vagabond and larger criminals that would land them a commendation or promotion.

The lull after his recent adventures out of town dragged on his mind. It was far too quiet, even after four days of being home, no one was talking about any happenings and it made Ryan a bit uneasy to not have a handle on the city. His whistling died when a strangled cry came from a couple of blocks over to the East. Like a hunter who caught a whiff of prey, he pulled out the small handgun hiding casually in between his tucked in black shirt and the leather belt keeping his jeans snugly against his hip.

With a slow stride, he stalked down a street and to his left.

Where he saw a very noisy man.

In the air.

Ryan halted with an almost comic abruptness, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

The flying man was not only in the air, but screaming at someone below before two more unfortunate souls joined him. Three squawking, wriggling bodies dangled three stories high. Obscenities were being thrown back and forth between those in the air and two figures on the ground.

Ryan didn’t recognize any of them, but that wasn’t much of a surprise, with his time out of town. The two that seemed to be the force keeping the men in the air pulled his attention, and he watched them quietly from the shadows after recovering from his surprise.

The one in front was shorter and freckled with a head full of dark auburn curls, spitting expletives at those in the air. Judging by his stance, he was the more confident and aggressive, and from his accent Ryan could tell he was from Jersey. Nothing new there, plenty of punks came to live it up in the city, but the bruises he sported on his knuckles and the lack thereof on his face showed that he could in fact back up his bark with bite. He was average height and a bit on the slender side, but it was harder to tell with the bulky leather jacket he was sporting. Ryan scoffed, looking at the torn and tattered leather, it must have been twenty years old.

Ryan watched the man move to a more defensible position in front of the other man. This one wasn’t cowering, but observing almost nervously. He was taller, with shaggy and wild blond hair. That, and he had a huge nose. Definitely larger than average. Ryan could only tell he was foreign, since there were no discernable words coming from him. Lanky and lean, he didn’t seem to be able to put up much of a fight and hunched behind the angry one as if to prove it. Ryan watched as his green eyes lit up when one of the men began to yell and thrash, however.

“Yeah, asshole, that’s how you wanna play it?” The man in front shouted, and waved a hand.

One of the men dropped suddenly, bashing his head against the side of the apartment building that made up one side of the alley. The limp body careened toward the concrete and a sickening crunch indicated the end of his life. The other two flying men seemed to be jolted into reality watching their companion die, and one of the others took out a gun and started to fire. Being airborne, however, seemed to throw off his aim and Ryan had to duck quickly behind a corner to avoid a stray shot.

“Micool, just drop them, Micool!” British, then. One of the ground men cried, panicked. Ryan rolled his eyes, had they never dealt with prisoners that weren’t behaving?

“Oh, I’ll drop the motherfu—“

Two perfect head shots and the men in the air went limp, broken marionettes. Ryan grinned behind the black skull mask covering his face as the two men on the ground stood frozen, staring him down. A beat, and the dead men came tumbling to earth.

“Oh, fuck!” The dark haired one shouted, “Gavin, run!”

“Wot?” The taller man clung to his partner like a lifeline, turning his head back and forth too quickly to actually take in his surroundings.

While the dark haired one tried to pull them away quickly out the other side of the alley, Ryan fired a shot into his left thigh. With a cry he fell while clutching at the wound and spitting curses. His accomplice immediately stooped down to try and help but Ryan fired another shot, warning him away. The kid backtracked quickly into the dark alley, and Ryan noticed there was no hint of sun left in the sky and the shadows only accentuated Ryan’s looming figure. Good, he could use the extra intimidation points, especially against something that for all accounts and purposes, _didn’t exist_.

Ryan stalked forward and shoved a thick boot against the wounded kid’s back. The other one backed up another foot, a bit shaky and looking entirely unsure of what to do.

“Well,” Ryan started, reloading his handgun casually, “it seems as if I found something interesting in my city, Mi- _cool_.” He said, imitating the British prick.

“Fuck, we’re dead.” The injured one groaned, and Ryan didn’t fail to notice him reach for a gun of his own.

“You are if you think you can shoot faster than me.” Ryan lined up a shot and waited for the kid to shift, placing both hands in front of him on the pavement.

“Michael—”

“Shut up Gavin.” Michael hissed. “You fucking run, got it? Get your ass gone. I’ll try and slow him—”

“Cut the shit and sit your ass down.” He growled. It didn’t take much inflection in his deep voice to instill a deadly tone. Gavin slowly lowered himself to the ground, looking helpless. “You know who I am?”

“Who the fuck doesn’t?” The kid under his boot snapped back, reflexively. He must have realized his outburst was a bad idea, because he shut back down, posture defeated and surrendering.

“I was on a murder break, see, and now I’ve just been forced to break it.” Ryan aimed the handgun at the blond and smirked at the nervous jolt from both of them. “I’ve heard things changed since I’ve been gone and lucky you, I want some info; a rare opportunity for a couple of cute kids like yourselves. Might even let you go, hell, I don’t know.”

“Micool, he’s—!” It was a high pitched keen, and Ryan dug his boot hard into the kid beneath him.

“Yeah, I know, working on it.” Michael ground out, hissing as he reached down to press a shaky hand into his wounded leg. “Ask away.”

“Who’s running the city? Names.”

“There’s a few.”

“Didn’t ask how many. Names.”

“Jasper’s crew runs East side mainly. The Grenades—you just took out like a third of their crew last week. There’s Beanman and Cassidy up on Cocksack—“

“Heads, not gang bitches.” Ryan clarified, tempted to fire another shot in irritation.

Michael didn’t seem deterred by his abrupt interruption. “It’s a bit broken up right now, but there are rumors of three that seem to be on the up and up if that’s what you’re asking. O-Town’s got connections, Corpirate’s taking over the underground, but then there’s Ramsey. He seems to know a lot more than he should.”

Ryan took note of the names, all unfamiliar. “You two?”

“Not with any of them.”

“You were making people fly.” Ryan cocked an eyebrow, not that they could see it. “That ain’t normal.”

“Gavin, hurry up!”

Ryan followed Michael’s gaze up to his partner, still on the ground in front of them. There was a whimper from him, small and huffy.

“I’m out.”

“Snap his line then!”

“Michael!” Gavin whined, squirmed a bit, and then went still again. “I don’t want to, Michael.”

“Do it or we’re fucking dead, Gavin!”

Ryan had no idea what they could be planning but it was at least amusing to watch them try, so he stayed quiet. Gavin let out a frustrated groan and Ryan felt his foot begin to heat up. Then his ankle, and shin. Reflex had him pulling his foot back, but the warmth continued to spread and he brought his boot back down hard against Michael’s back, pushing him back into the pavement. His entire body was warm now, but it didn’t feel as if he was drugged with anything. That was when pain erupted from what felt like every nerve and his vision went white for a moment.

One of them let out a cry of pain and Ryan was shoved hard back into the wall of the alley. When his vision came back a few seconds later he could see Michael struggling to lift a limp Gavin up and away from him. Growling, Ryan lashed out with a kick, sending them both crashing to the ground.

“Ow, fuck!” Michael snarled up at him. “Just fuck off already!”

“What the _fuck_ did you just do?” With a snarl he raised his handgun, trigger finger ready to pull.

“I really hate you, Michael.” Gavin groaned miserably from his crumpled heap.

“I tried, alright? We’re fucking dead now anyways, asshole, because someone couldn’t keep their _goddamn mouth shut_! Of all the _fucking_ morons I ended up with _you are the fucking worst Gavin_! We’re gonna get slaughtered by the _fucking Vagabond_ and no one else is gonna know what a _fucking pain in the ass_ you’ve been! God, I swear I’m gonna murder you in whatever afterlife we end up in.”

“Shut the fuck up and answer me.” Another warning shot. Getting soft, he noted to himself, two was unheard of for him but curiosity was overriding rage and it was his first day back from a murder break. Might as well break back in slowly.

“He fucked up you up with his cock sucking _magical_ Source powers, alright? He just invades your body with it and with cases like you, asshole, he fucking snaps the line and it fucks you both up.”

“It really hurts, Michael.”

“I swear to God Gavin, shut the fuck up!” Michael made no move to lash out at his groaning friend, however, and just kept eyes locked on Ryan’s. “You really don’t know about this?”

“Explain. Now.” This time he fired, a grazing shot but Michael’s left arm was going to smart for a good couple of days. 

“ _Fuck_. God. Quit shooting already, shit.” Michael hadn’t moved from his spot, though; he must have had some experience with pain then. The whole “no gang affiliations” was probably bullshit. Michael seemed to be thinking it over a moment before opening his mouth again.“There’s these guys called Sources, alright? They give the powers. Gavin’s one of ‘em. He connects to an Inheritor—me, or you, apparently—and voila, fucking magic happens.”

“Why didn’t you—fly away or whatever?”

“Ran out of juice.” Gavin huffed, still on his back. “Takes a lot of energy.”

“You take too much and they die, that’s why there aren’t many of ‘em left. Dumbass Inheritors can’t fucking control themselves.” Michael snarled.

Ryan stood there a moment, trying to let it sink in. This sort of thing wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities months ago. Now people were flying. Fuck, what was the world coming to? Still, more information was needed.

“He the only one left?”

“No. There’s a few within the city, some in hiding but most are part of a crew. Like I said, they’re rare nowadays.” Michael shifted, wincing as he did. “Anything else you want before you kill us or can we just fucking get this over with?”

“Get up.” Ryan took a step back, watching them process his request. Michael rose slowly, a great effort with a bullet still lodged in his thigh, and bent down after a moment to pull Gavin up to at least a sitting position.

“Can’t. Too tired, Michael.” Gavin protested, nothing but a limp noodle, much to Michael’s irritation.

“Shut _up_ and work with me. I’m trying to help you for fuck’s sake.” It took a minute, but somehow Michael had managed to get Gavin to his feet and the dirty blonde was practically draped over Michael in an attempt to stay upright.

“Carry him if you have to, we’re leaving. Run and you’re dead.”

Ryan turned away from them, not bothering to keep tabs on them in favor of finding his vehicle. Shit, where had left it? Oh well, it was probably time to switch cars anyhow. Michael struggled to get Gavin onto his back and Ryan shoved some lady out of her car, pulling it up to the edge of the alley.

“Get in.”

He watched carefully as Michael dragged his friend to the backseat. Ryan immediately motioned with his gun.

“Nuh-uh. He goes in front. You in back.”

Michael grumbled something under his breath, but did as he was told, heaving Gavin into the passenger seat and buckling him up before hobbling into the back. Once the door was closed Ryan sped off, taking a corner entirely too fast just to hear Michael thunk against the window of the passenger side.

“You asshole!" 

Ryan merely smirked under his mask and took another sharp left to do it again. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to use them for yet, but it seemed they had their uses. Gavin, at the very least, he could just dangle in front of these three bosses who seemed not to understand that he was back and that Achievement City had about seven months of chaos to catch back up on. After all, his chase had been fun, but he’d left his pets to roam without proper discipline.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The two of them are roughly pushed into a hellhole of a basement, which of course the Vagabond had on hand. Various stains covered the concrete floor and there were buckets placed in corners—it smelled like shit and Michael connected the dots quickly. Gavin was easily cuffed to what looked to be a radiator in one corner, large, white, and covered in some sort of grime. Michael had the pleasure of being cuffed to metal piping coming up from the floor and back down into it. With disgust Michael wondered exactly what was going to happen to the two of them.

Sawed into pieces maybe? If they were being taken it meant that they were either potentially useful—well, Gavin was. Michael needed to come up with a plan to save his own skin when the Vagabond figured that one out—or if the psycho felt the need to draw it out nice and slow. Hell, all anyone knew about the freak was that he had a terrifying affinity for blood. That about summed it up, from what Michael could tell. He couldn’t see anything under the mask and it was unnerving. Gavin was slumped across from him, eyes closed but he could tell the idiot wasn’t unconscious. They had really pushed it to the limit today.

His leg was still bleeding, he noted dully as their psycho kidnapper climbed rotting wooden stairs and swung shut the squeakiest door Michael had ever had the displeasure of hearing. Any traces of light left and they were swallowed by the dark.

Once Gavin woke up, Michael grumbled, “This is all your fault.”

“Michael don’t be a bully.” Gavin huffed back softly, pulling himself conscious. “You said you’d protect me.”

“Yeah, sure, and that means don’t be an asshole and pick a fight with every single gangster in the damn city. God, Gavin, I didn’t think you were that stupid, but as always you never fail to disappoint.”

“Michael.” Gavin whined. “I’m too tired to argue.”

“So then don’t argue, dipshit. Just agree that you fucked us and then we can think of a damn plan because I’ve still got a bullet in my leg and you sure as hell can’t do shit right now.”

The door swung back open with a loud squeal and with a rubber stop wedged into it, it provided enough light down below for the two of them to see what was in the Vagabond’s hands—a medkit. The guy just sauntered over to Michael, hunched in the right corner of the room, and bodily dragged his injured leg closer to him.

“Ow, shit!”

“Don’t be a baby. Bullet’s gotta come out.” With a flick of a knife his left pant leg was shredded and pulled away from his body. Michael tensed, feeling the Vagabond’s hands roam over his thigh carefully. “Yep, still in there.”

Gritting his teeth, Michael chose not to respond, simply tensing up and watching every slow movement of his kidnapper. The Vagabond didn’t seem to pay it any mind and snapped open the med kit, fumbling around with its contents before sighing in frustration. He stalked back up the stairs, leaving the door wedged open. A small mercy on Michael’s bleeding ears.

“Michael, boi, you okay?”

“What the fuck do you think Gavin? He’s gonna cut it outta me.”

Gavin winced from his own corner, drawing his legs up. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

Heavy footsteps stomped back down the stairs and the Vagabond was carrying a small bottle and a large rag, now also sporting white medical gloves. With a loud grunt, he plopped down in front of Michael again and pulled at his left leg. Michael winced, but once again remained silent.

Picking up the knife once more, deft fingers were nudging the sharp object into his wound and Michael felt fire, white hot and angry through his entire leg. Hands fisted tightly at his side, he tried his best to remain still, but in the end the Vagabond had to use one hand to hold down his thigh while the other dipped further and further into the hole in his leg. Finally the digging stopped and Michael gasped for air he hadn’t realized he was depriving himself of.

“Got it.”

It was an almost cheerful exclamation and then more fire took over his senses. Michael let out a choked cry, hand darting to his thigh in an effort to curb the pain. His hands were quickly slapped away and a rough cloth was being dabbed into what Michael realized was rubbing alcohol before being pressed against the bullet hole. The pressure made it worse and with another strangled yelp, he reached out again.

This time the very hands that had caused harm not an hour ago were taking his in hand and pressing them tight against the cloth.

“Hold that there while I tape it.” Came the order, and Michael swallowed a rude reply.

Masking tape was wound around three, four, five times before finally cut. The tape was itchy and caught against his leg hair, but it was better than bleeding out. Probably. With another grunt the Vagabond returned to his feet and snapped off the medical gloves, throwing them into one of the buckets easily before gathering the med kit and the rubbing alcohol back up into muscular arms. The rotting wooden steps creaked and groaned as he trudged back up them, kicking at the doorstop and with that nails-on-a-chalkboard-bad squeal, the door to the basement slammed shut and once again they were left in complete darkness.

“Michael?”

“What?” He snapped, a little shaken from the impromptu medical attention he’d just received.

“Why did he do that?”

It was a good question, but Michael had some ideas. “He’s keeping us long term. If I die it probably ruins his fun, the sick fuck.”

“So, torture then?”

“No dumbass, he’s keeping us for tea and crumpets.” Michael rolled his eyes, even though Gavin couldn’t see him. “How long until you recharge? Not that it will do us any good. Even if we kill him it’s not like we can bust out of these damn cuffs.” Of all the sticky situations they’d been in for the last six months, this was by far the worst. “Just think of a way for us to get out of here.”

“I’m gonna just take a small nap, yeah?” Gavin’s voice was small again, tired, and Michael couldn’t blame him for needing to rest.

“Yeah, Gav, you do that. I’ll think of something, got it?”

Gavin hummed in agreement and while Michael couldn’t see him, he knew the blonde was already mostly gone. After a few moments he let himself heave a shaky sigh. This was an absolute nightmare and jokes aside, the Vagabond wasn’t exactly known for keeping people alive. It was shocking to say the least that he was even back. Rumors of the Vagabond’s death had spread months ago; some idiot claiming to be his assassin was celebrated for only half a moment before the entire city was out to get him.

What a fucking moron.

There was chaos in the wake of that incident and soon enough power shifted and then he met Gavin and everything he thought he knew about the city was flipped on its head again. Powers and Sources and Inheritors and that irritating British voice nagging at him twenty-four seven about protection and taking too much and Michael _knew_ that. He _knew_ and he wasn’t going to use up Gavin and just dump his body the second he couldn’t get a use out of him. But he’d sure as hell kill someone that tried to do that to Gavin.

Not like Gavin trusted him, though.

He could see the panic, and it wasn’t until his line was snapped that he really, truly understood that panic. Michael knew he wasn’t going to just use him, sure, but Gavin had learned to cut him off even at his own expense in an effort to just survive.

But Gavin didn’t understand that Michael _needed_ him; not like someone wanting powers or needing someone to further his success in life. It was job after job at first for Michael, taking on what he could to keep up with bills and buy a fancy car and to be one of those assholes needing to show the world he was worth something just to prove it to himself.

Michael needed Gavin so that _he_ could feel needed.

Explosives and blood kept the self loathing away for a while; kept his self esteem up and a grin on his face. It was fun to hurt people for money, and he was young and reckless and there was nothing stopping him from just blowing himself up in the fray. Now there was, even if he was an idiot. Gavin was vulnerable—could hardly survive without Michael and it was kind of like owning a dog, but the gratification was so much more than just feeding and walking a dog.

Gavin smiled and joked with him, wasn’t scared of him. Gavin played pranks and purposely bothered him just to get a rise out of him. He made an effort to get to know Michael underneath the anger he had for the world and Gavin just accepted it. Didn’t try to change him; to tell him to calm down and think about the bright side. He just laughed and agreed that the world was full of bullshit, and that it was fun to piss on a cop car from two stories up. 

Taking in another shaky breath, he cursed the dark they were left in. He would much rather watch Gavin sleep than be left alone with his own thoughts in the dark.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin was so bored. He hadn’t eaten his hotdog the Vagabond had brought and was left with energy nagging at him.

He’d asked all of his million dollar questions, schooled Michael on the rules of cricket, and in return was taught the rules of American football. Both had argued over what was under the mask of their captor for over an hour, and had only ended when Michael had said he had to at least have a smaller nose than Gavin. He had run out of things to say in an effort to avoid thinking about what the maniac was doing and why he came in at random intervals with hotdogs.

“Why hotdogs?” Gavin asked, frowning to himself in the dark.

“Who cares, Gavin? Just eat it. If we’re lucky they’re poisoned and we die.”

“But there’s eight in a pack, yeah? That means one person’s not getting a third. Unless he’s eating two. He might be eating two, Michael.”

“Gavin, seriously, just shut up.”

“This is the fourth we’ve gotten, so he had to open a new pack, right? He had two, right? But like, why would he have two packs of hotdogs?”

“He probably uses them to—“

“But Michael, he lives by himself. Well, probably. I haven’t heard anyone and he doesn’t seem the type to have friends, yeah?”

“What’s the point, Gavin?”

“He dresses ‘em all up even; mustard, ketchup, buns. A right masterpiece of a meal for us.” Gavin fumbled in front of him, grabbing the warm hotdog and bringing it to his nose to take another whiff. “He’s putting in effort, Michael.”

“So, what, you think he wants to be friends with us? Is that it?”

“I think he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with us yet.”

“Look,” a sigh in the dark that was only feet away from him but still too far, “it’s probably to get you to like him first. Then he’s going to come in and start with the fingers and toes and once we’ve told him all we can tell it’ll be the mess of what’s left that’s going to end up in those buckets. He’s not going to be our friend, Gavin. He fucking kidnapped us in the first place. We’re helpless little murder victims awaiting the death sentence.” Michael bit out the end of his sentence with sharply contained anger.

Sitting back against the cold wall, Gavin frowned and took a bite of his hotdog. Far too dressed up to be for a prisoner. No, there was something going on and the hotdog was a clue, he was sure. But with Michael so irritable it was going to be impossible to get him to see it, which meant it was time for the next tactic.

“Do you know who invented the hot dog?”

“Do you think I care?”

“Why is it considered an American food when it was the Germans who—”

The door swung open with that earsplitting squeal and Michael let out an audible growl. The light that came from upstairs was always artificial and the two had no way of knowing what time it was or how long they’d been down in the basement. Well, cellar, really.

It was odd, to get a visit so soon after the last. After all, they’d just received their hotdogs and water. It didn’t follow what little of a pattern Gavin had managed to catch. Like he thought, something was going on. But the Vagabond strode down the stairs after wedging the door open without a care in the world.

“Why hotdogs?” Gavin asked, feeling bold. If they were going to be tortured anyways, he might as well know.

There was a shrug. “I like hotdogs.”

That was it. No other reasoning was given and Gavin frowned. He had hoped for a more elaborate answer so he could clue in on whatever it was the Vagabond was trying to hide from them.

“Yeah but there’s mustard and ketchup. It’s in a bun.” Gavin stressed, holding the hot dog up to reiterate his point. He was making it clear as day, surely.

“He thinks you’re trying to impress us.” Michael added, sending a bleary-eyed glare Gavin’s direction. “But let’s just get straight to the part where I’m right and you’re about to start the torture. I mean, hell, I just took a shit five minutes ago and I’m ready.”

Gavin frowned harder; Michael was trying to distract from him, keep him safe from the attentions of a psychotic killer. It would be sweet, really, if Gavin didn’t absolutely want an answer. The Vagabond just stood there for a couple of beats.

“Are you impressed with the hotdogs?” was the cool reply. “Maybe I’ll add some relish next time.”

“But it’s got to mean _something_. You like us, right? You haven’t once come in to torture us and you even check up on Michael’s wound.” Gavin felt a drip of ketchup fall onto his exposed ankle, and held back a gag. “So what do you plan to do with us then?”

“Come on, you bitch, and start the torture already. I’ve got a bet with Gavin that you’re a nail pulling guy. Or maybe it’s your hair when you’re sucking all that cock.”

Gavin huffed, annoyed at Michael’s good intentions. It didn’t seem to bait the Vagabond, however, and Gavin still had his attention. The man crossed his arms, remaining silent even through the next few moments of Michael’s ever increasing volume of taunts. He just stood there, waiting, and it all clicked together.

“Michael. Michael he’s waiting for us to try and escape.”

Michael paused mid-taunt, mouth snapping shut. “Oh. He wants a show, Gavvy.”

“Seems like it, Michael.”

“Too bad. I’m not in a particularly show-off mood.” Michael snarled, spitting for good measure. “If you want information you might as well beat it out of me, bitch.”

“Maybe I’ll beat it out of him.” Vagabond tipped his head toward Gavin and Gavin saw Michael tense despite the effort of trying not to reveal the fear. “You seem to be awfully attached. Didn’t even take much to get info from you before. As tough as you claim you are, you peeled like a damn potato in that alley.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, exactly. Michael was pretty free with that information, but it wasn’t exactly difficult information to get a hold of either. Almost public, really. The Vagabond had already seen Michael use his powers. There was no denying Gavin was a Source, either, and who was running the city was information anyone who any sort of underground connection would freely give.

The information the Vagabond was looking for… neither of them knew what exactly he was after. They didn’t have any gang affiliations after Michael blew off his old boss and they sent back a message not to be trifled with. That was ages ago now, and if that gangster was smart he’d have changed everything Michael knew about. They didn’t have much to give except public knowledge which meant they’d either have to lie and face the consequences after or endure the torture and continue to tell the truth.

They didn’t know shit and unless the Vagabond wanted Gavin to establish a line with him, the two of them were useless and would be dead after a very long, very painful process.  Michael understood that long ago and Gavin had been avoiding talking about it for the last however long they’d been there, deprived of light and fresh air.

The question was what did the Vagabond want and how much of what they knew was useful to him?

“I can see those gears ticking, so why don’t I help you out?” It was a patronizing voice, deep and disturbingly playful in comparison to the gruff snarls of their encounter in the alley. “Somehow, back in that alley there were three men flying in the air.”

“You want to know about Sources.” Michael stated bluntly. “I already told you. They have magic, they link up to you, you have magic.”

“That makes him useful. So why should I bother keeping _you_?” The question was deliberately aimed at Michael and Gavin panicked.

They’d both been thinking of a way out of this impossible situation. He could link up with Michael, they could kill the Vagabond, but it was like Michael said; they were dead the second they did that. There was no way out of the cuffs, so Michael’s power was useless in this situation. Gavin looked desperately to Michael, hoping against all hope that somehow he’d thought of something on the fly.

“Good luck dealing with him by yourself. A better man than me would have killed him already.”

Well shit. That meant he hadn’t. Gavin thought wildly for any possible answer—something, there had to be something they could offer! A gun was drawn, pistol aimed straight for Michael and there was no more time to think. He had to just leap and let his mouth work.

“If you kill him I won’t link with you.” He blurted, voice shaking and betraying the panic. He didn’t dare make eye contact with Michael. “You don’t know anything, we can both see that. You’ll have to learn how to link up or you’ll kill every Source you link with. It won’t work and you won’t be able to compete with the others.”

“Gavin—”

“Who said anything about linking?” The slight southern drawl was a new addition to the little facts Gavin had been adding up in his head about this man. “I was thinking I might just sell you. I have no need for superpowers.”

Well double shit. He hadn’t thought of that.

The gun was cocked and Gavin blurted out more—anything, really, just to delay that shot from being taken.

“Michael is top at blowing things up! And you don’t know that you won’t need a Source. There’re more Sources out there than you think and they’re hunting down more. That’s what the fight in the alley was about. We’re worth more than money right now and selling me wouldn’t be very smart.”

The gun stayed where it was, and Gavin vaguely felt a bit sick that he had been so obviously played for the information. Michael wasn’t afraid to die but Gavin needed him and this bastard knew that. From the start they had no chance of staying quiet.

“What I’m saying is that we could come to an agreement.”

“That’s not how this works. I get what I want, plain and simple. If I wanted you to… “link up” as you put it, I’d just put holes into him until you did.”

“Fuck off.” Michael snarled. “He doesn’t work that way. You remember what he did, right? He’d put you down on your ass the second you connected. You can’t force a link, asshole. He’s made damn sure of that.”

“Again, what use do I have of powers? If I can’t use him, what is the point of keeping him?”

“We told you already. He’s more valuable than any amount of money you ask for him. They’ll just use him against you.”

“You just said no one can force a link with him.”

Michael paused, caught in the loophole they’d just revealed. Hoping to save the conversation, Gavin jumped back in.

“Right, which is why I’m offering to link with you by choice. An arrangement, yeah? I keep Michael around for protection against those hunting for me. So you make the same deal and I’ll let you use me.”

There was a low sigh. “I think you’re forgetting that I don’t need to make people fly. Making a deal with you is of no gain to me.”

Michael gave out a bark of laughter. “You’re an idiot then. Everyone who has power in this city uses a Source. You think making people fly is all I can fucking do? There’s a guy out there who can read minds. With that same Source a different guy can turn his skin to metal. Gavin’s way more useful than you think.”

A beat, and then to Michael, “That still makes you useless to me.”

“He’s part of the deal!” Gavin’s cuffs rattled as he stood. “Without him I won’t agree to link with you. Michael knows how to link, he can help teach you how not to kill me. Besides, I like him and he can help protect me. You agree to protect us both, you follow the rules of linking, and we’ll do whatever you say.”

“And what’s to stop you from using these powers to kill me the second I let you free?”

“You’re the Vagabond. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone knows not to fuck with you.” Michael added. “Just associating with you will get 95% of those assholes hunting Gavin off of our backs. Besides, you saw how well that worked out last time. I ended up with a bullet in the leg and cuffed in a goddamn cellar for who the fuck knows how long? If we wanted you dead we would’ve done it the second Gavin got his energy back.”

“You use us, we use you. A partnership.”

“I don’t do partners.” is all the Vagabond responded with and then he was back up those wooden steps and that accursed door squealed shut. Gavin winced at the sound, sliding back down the wall to a seated position, hotdog still in hand. With a sigh, he brought it to his mouth and took another bite.

“Are you _fucking_ serious, Gavin?!” Michael roared. “He was going to let you live and you decide to try and cut a deal with him?”

“He was going to shoot you Michael. I saved you.”

“You didn’t do shit except give him what he wants. He got everything he needed from us.”

“Oh come off it, Michael. You told him things too.”

“I didn’t try and convince the fucking _Vagabond_ to cut us in as partners! The guy flips at the drop of a coin, just freaks out and kills everyone like it’s nothing. You really think he’s going to agree to partner with us?!”

“Michael I was trying to save you!”

“Well we’re still dead, Gavin. Still dead as dicks! And now he’s probably pissed you brought up the fucking hotdogs and he’s going to starve us.”

“It could work Michael. We just need to trust each other.”

Michael snorted and Gavin felt what seemed to be half of Michael’s hotdog thrown at him. With a frown he picked it up, the slimy combination of ketchup and mustard coating his hand when he picked it up from the top.

“Aww, Michael, look what you did! Are you not going to eat this? It could be your last hotdog, you know.”

Michael was silent for a moment. “Fine, throw it back.”

“What if it lands in your piss bucket?”

“Then you eat it. He’ll probably sell you like he said he was going to anyways. You should at least get fat so when he carries you it fucks up his back.”

Gavin let out a chuckle at the thought. “He’s probably too strong. I wouldn’t even wind him.”

“Not with just a half of hotdog. If we get more I’ll just keep throwing them at you. Maybe if you get fat enough you won’t fit the cuffs and you can break loose.”

“How come in all of these scenarios you’re never free with me? It’s always if I manage to get out. What about you? You’re fatter than me.”

“That’s my point, stupid. You need to eat more.”

“That was not the point.” Gavin argued. “I won’t do this without you, you know. You’re my boi, Michael, and I need you.”

It was quiet after that. Gavin couldn’t tell what Michael might be thinking, but he’d managed to curb the anger for now on the issue. It was most definitely going to come up again and again and if Michael needed someone to blame for still being alive, Gavin would accept it.

He really couldn’t do it without Michael. Not after this long. He’d see to it that whoever bought him used him up in his first go. Let the bastard waste him and all of the potential Gavin offered.

No one deserved that but Michael.

Michael deserved the world, but all Gavin would hear is Michael offering the world to him. It was adorable and Gavin would make sure they shared the world equally one day.

“Team Nice Dynamite.”

“Wot?”

“That’s our team name, stupid. So even if you link with this son of a bitch, you still know whose team I’m on.”

“Team Nice Dynamite.” Gavin repeated, grinning. “It’s got quite a nice ring to it.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan leaned against the door to the basement, letting his head rest against the door in thought. The boys were smarter than he’d initially believed, and naive. He had planned to kill Michael from the get go, but the Brit had come up with an interesting alternative.

All this talk of magic powers had his head aching, and if he hadn’t seen it for himself, bullets would have solved his problems ages ago. Although, Ryan had been looking for trouble since he’d come home, and the adrenaline of a good chase was a welcome old friend compared to the same old chaos he’d caused before. It had become almost boring. _Almost_.

Perhaps the offer was something to consider.

Perhaps not.

Needing to depend on someone like Gavin was crippling. Really, depending on anyone was a problem. No, it was far safer to trust in his own abilities. There was no need to take the chance just to get an edge over someone with powers when he had twice the skill and instinct. He still wasn’t totally sure of the specifics of these Sources, but if they could just give anyone powers most of his enemies wouldn’t have a chance at survival. Speaking of, Ryan thought, maybe it was time to scope out these newbies and see what they’d managed to build up in his absence.

Locking up behind him, he strolled into the rundown kitchen and pulled out his last can of Diet Coke. There wasn’t much left in the fridge anyhow, all that was left had all gone bad—except for the few of packs of hotdogs from the freezer. He hoped his soda hadn’t gone too flat, he hated flat Diet Coke. This wasn’t his usual safe house, as all the others had been compromised in the seven months he’d been gone. It was a dump he’d picked up for cases like this, when he came back and needed to reintegrate himself into the city. The neighborhood was nothing to write home about, but at least it gave him more options for types of torture.

Not bothering to open the can of soda, he slipped it into the pocket of his black leather jacket striped with blue and gray on the sleeves. On his way out he snagged the car keys from the kitchen counter and strolled over to the red sedan he’d stolen the day before. The lady he’d taken it from had kept it in good condition and Ryan briefly prided himself in his good choice. It needed gas, but he could manage to get close to his destination without a fill up.

It took no longer than fifteen minutes to get to the seedy bar that housed—or at least used to house—his jobs negotiator. Hector was the best in the business of particularly violent requests. He kept track of who was doing what where and it was policy to never allow any of his clients to cross hit men. Not that Ryan particularly cared if another hit man was out to get him, but it put Hector in a bad light and it removed some of the stress of a difficult assassination.

Pushing open the surprisingly light door to the cramped bar, Ryan tried to maneuver around both the drunks and strippers in the near pitch black and haze of smoke to Hector’s office in the back. Through a tinted window he could see Hector was with another client at the moment and took up a spot in front of the window to alert the dealer of his presence. He saw Hector glance up at him three times before shooing his current client out of his office and beckoning with a wave for Ryan to enter.

“Well shit, rumor had it you had returned.” Hector was a big guy, more gut than muscle at this point, but no one would dare cross him. His hair might have thinned and his moustache wilted, but he still had plenty of connections, and he endeared himself to people from all walks of life. “I figured it was some wannabe taking up that god awful mask of yours.” Hector greeted with a chuckle, leaning back against an expensive looking mahogany desk. “What brings you back, Vagabond? Get bored out there in the wild?”

“Finished up some unfinished business.” Ryan answered curtly, closing the door behind him. “What do you have for me?”

“You’re not gonna like this,” Hector warned, picking up a half full glass of whiskey and taking a drink. Grimacing, he turned to Ryan. “I’ve been dry for a while. There are some… problems that have been eating up my negotiations for a while now. No one wants a regular merc anymore, Vagabond. You’ve got to be what they call an Inheritor now.”

“Inheritor?”

Hector took another drink. “That’s right. You know anything about these Sources? Sounds like complete bullshit, but it’s taken the city by storm.”

“Not much,” Ryan figured he could double check what Michael and Gavin told him, at the very least.

“Right, well, these assholes can give someone superpowers—I know, it’s as crazy as it sounds, but I’ve seen it myself enough to believe it. Not just anyone can use one of these guys though, you need to have a certain gene or some science shit is the latest I’ve heard. You have to be special to get special I guess.”

Well now. Dear little Gavin and Michael hadn’t said shit about this.

“How can you tell if you’re a Source or Inheritor?”

“Without some sort of testing? You can’t. They can, though—these Sources who just show up out of nowhere.” Hector clarified. “They can tell who has it and who doesn’t, isn’t that just perfect? I can’t even track one of them down to use as a radar for Inheritors. Ain’t no one wanting a regular old fashion mercenary. You’re either a Source or an Inheritor and that’s all they want.”

“You know where I can find one of these Sources?”

“Of course I know.” Hector shook his head. “But you know I can’t tell you.”

Ryan hummed in thoughtful agreement. Hector was useful and had been for a very long time, it wouldn’t do to get the information out of him and then be forced to find someone to take his place. No, that was far too much work.

“And if I was an Inheritor?” He proposed, crossing his arms in front of him. If Hector could find him someone else to work with, he could kill the two idiots in his house.

“Well, _if_ you were, you’d still need a Source to be worth anything and good luck finding one of those. They’ve only gotten more careful.” He shook his head. “Makes it damn hard to stay in business, I can tell you that much.”

Ryan nodded slowly and took in that if Hector was having a hard time, most of the organized criminal activity in the city would be as well. Ryan moved towards the door, signaling an end to the conversation.

“Get me some jobs.” Ryan put a hand on the knob of the door. “I’ll take care of everything else. Payment up front, as usual.”

“Look, it’s gonna be tough to find, you feel me?” Setting the heavy glass down, Hector heaved a heavy sigh, ruffling his droopy moustache. “Because it’s you, I might be able to dredge something up, but my fee has gone up. I can’t stay in business with the rates I used to charge.”

“Because it’s you, Hector,” Ryan echoed carefully, “I expect only the best. Find me the jobs.”

“Right,” Hector sighed again.

Stalking back out of the bar with more concerned glances than he got coming in, Ryan decided to ditch the car and go for a stroll instead. It was one thing to have Michael bark at him about not being able to compete with these newbies and their Sources, but it seemed like he couldn’t get a job either.

These Sources were beginning to become a nuisance.

And unfortunately it was only building a stronger case for his two little captives. That in itself was starting to piss him off, he was beginning to feel forced into this deal and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t like being out of control of a situation.

It took a while to find someone to bully, this early in the day most of the night dwellers holed up until something exciting was going down; eventually he’d managed to find some lanky drug dealer hiding out at the side of a convenience store. It only took a single broken finger to have him squealing about a guy going by the name Daniel Ruscoe running a small crew with a Source.  
  
It would be good practice; Ryan justified, finally opening his Diet Coke, letting it foam away from his jacket. That, and it might be fun to rub the kill into Michael and Gavin’s faces, bring back someone’s head or a similar trophy. He briefly wondered if either were squeamish. It might be better not to take a souvenir back with him if he’d end up needing to clean up a different kind of mess, he contemplated as he pushed the bottom of his mask up a bit—only enough to free his mouth for a sip of the near flat soda. Blood and guts he could handle; more intimate bodily fluids he preferred to keep his hands out of. He brushed the remaining foam off his face, wiping it on his pants as he thought.  
  
After he finished his soda, he made his way to the ammunition store. He needed to restock, both on ammo and a bullet proof vest. He didn’t have much back at the safe house and his secret stash was clear across the city. Money had been tight for a while, and he didn't have enough on him to get nearly the ammunition he typically used on a job like this. Even still it would be dangerous to go in low on ammo, but he didn’t have much of a choice. The drug dealer he’d interrogated had said that it was a small close-knit crew, couldn’t be more than ten people.  
  
Fuck it; the crew would be unprepared for an attack—especially from him and with the element of surprise. He could probably take out three of them without getting noticed and another two while they were struggling to get their bearings. That would leave five and a fifty-fifty chance he’d already killed the Source.  
  
The odds were in his favor.  
  
Crushing the empty can, he placed it into a public waste bucket on the corner of an intersection next to a crosswalk. He saw a woman glance at him nervously and he rolled his eyes. Was it so wrong to be an upstanding citizen and avoid littering? Just because a guy enjoyed the thrill of a kill didn’t mean he couldn’t look out for the environment.  
  
It took the better part of an hour to get the necessary accessories for murder and another two to locate the place. It wasn’t much; the house looked only a bit larger than his own rundown safe house, the yard was a dump, and the back door was boarded up with a few bullet holes already marking it. The inside walls of a sloppily added carport were covered in graffiti. There were four windows on the first level and another two on the second he could shoot into, he noted with a thin smile. He stalked into position, still out of sight of anyone near the house.  
  
The makeshift car port had two beat up cars under it, and there was a truck in the driveway- most likely all stolen. A white muscle car riding low sat on the street and Ryan wondered how it drove at all. Twenty minutes into scoping the place out he’d paid some kid to go slash all of the tires on all four cars. No need to let them escape the pent up frustration Ryan was feeling from a very long couple of days that was about to be unleashed upon them—but maybe also out of spite for such an eyesore. He really hated graffiti. He stewed as he waited for dark to fall and observed for another two hours before he decided it was time. He pulled himself up onto a building, finding the perfect place.  
  
Finally, from the roof across the street he screwed a silencer on his sniper rifle. He was slightly diagonal from his target, and he took his time lining up the first shot. Looking in, he waited for his victim to sit back down on the ugliest brown microfiber couch he’d ever seen. There were three more men sitting on it, arguing with one another about a hockey game from the looks of things. He could see one more upstairs in a bedroom watching porn.

He double checked that the assault rifle laying next to him was fully loaded. He’d have to switch after he got in a shot or two, if they noticed they were under attack. But the sniper rifle would be far too slow to reload to take out all three in the living room. With a breath in and a pulled trigger on the slow exhale, the upstairs window had a small hole and his first target had fallen dead to the ground.

The poor bastard didn’t even get to finish.

Ryan almost felt bad. Almost.

He quickly switched his view to the other window, seeing a slight disturbance. He decided not to chance anything.  
  
Quickly switching guns, he fired three more rounds into the living room downstairs with an automatic rifle. The shattering of glass instantly alerted the others he couldn’t previously see inside the house, and waited a beat before swinging the sniper rifle over his back, shimmying further down the sloped roof. He could hear a muffled conversation from the occupants in the house he was atop of, but paid it no mind. If they stayed where they were, he wouldn’t kill them. He wasn’t quite in the mood for unnecessary bloodshed yet, anyways. He’d see where the night took him.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he could see a head poke out from behind one of the busted cars. He fired a couple more shots, thoroughly enjoying the angry shouts from those still remaining.  
  
“Get me the fuck outta here Daniel, or the Corpirate is gonna feed you your own balls!” someone hollered from inside. The Source, Ryan assumed.  
  
“Gimme some power then, asshole!”  
  
“It’s too soon—”  
  
“I’ll kill you myself if you don’t!”  
  
He’d apparently lost the draw of luck he’d made for himself. He hadn’t killed the Source in the first run. Thankfully that seemed to be the end of the argument, and Ryan fired a few rounds into the house in an attempt to draw them outside. He had to end this quickly, before the Source recharged. Hopefully this one didn’t know the trick Gavin did, he didn’t want a repeat of having a line snapped.

The one taking cover in the garage made a run for it, throwing open the passenger side door of the white muscle car. With a giddy chortle he unloaded into the vehicle and noted that the way the blood splashed against the windshield was pretty artsy; he rarely killed someone inside their own vehicle, and with a bloodthirsty smile he made a mental note to set up a few more murders this way. Maybe make sure it was an assassination with a witness.  
  
The glow of orange was all the warning Ryan got before half of the house was swallowed up in flames. The fire erupted far too quickly to have been set off by anything other than an explosion, and there was no sound to go along with the deadly heat. Ryan cursed.  
  
So the dickhead could use fire. It could have been worse, Ryan thought, and for a moment was a bit disappointed. Then the fire was twisting and outside the house was a man engulfed in hues of blue and orange; the man’s clothes were also quickly swallowed by the inferno, but his skin remained intact and unmarred from the heat.  
  
Another man from inside darted clumsily over a fence and into the neighbor’s backyard, and distracted as he was by the flaming, recently nude man, Ryan was too slow on the shot. Hissing out another curse, he fired instead at the burning man setting the front lawn ablaze. The tower of fire previously taking out the right side of his target’s house had moved while he’d made his shot and now he was blocked by a wall of wavering heat; any sort of visibility he’d had on the burning man was completely gone.  
  
“Come out, you fucker,” The man taunted, sounding very far away on the other side of the fire. “you afraid of a little fire?!”  
  
How original, Ryan scoffed. Surely he could do better than that. He looked out over the roof and decided the wall of flames was a real problem. He couldn’t see for dicks and the smoke was adding another layer of visibility issues. However, he had to stay focused, or he had a good chance of becoming literal toast.

If he could get close he might be able to get a clear shot, but with the heat spreading and beginning to swallow him, he knew he didn’t have much time. Sirens were already blaring in the distance, which was only going to cut down on his already limited time. Neither he nor the Inheritor he was facing off against would be able to work around the fire department and police swarming the place. Although, he’d love to hijack a fire truck and blast these assholes with a couple of tons of water.  
  
The fire died down for a moment, and Ryan felt like he was watching a gas stove being turned from high to low. A shout, “He’s on the roof!” brought a small rain of bullets scattering across the roof he was on and he bailed from his position, slipping off the edge of the roof. Screams from inside intensified once he landed with a grunt on an awning that was shading the old wooden porch in the backyard. The awning snapped under his weight, and he landed on his side with another grunt. He wished he could have gone a bit longer without bruising anything, he was getting used to being in his best condition.  
  
Heat and fire licked up the roof he had just been standing on, and when Ryan squinted behind his mask the eerie faint outline of a hand in the fire could be seen. It was a hand, made of literal fire. Shrugging off the feeling that he’d gone crazy, he mused that it must be used as an extension of his body then? He would have to grill Gavin about it later, as the fire hand split into two, feeling and reaching further down.

Rolling back up onto his feet, Ryan veered to the left, taking cover on the side of the now crackling and popping house to try and get a glance at his assailant. Smoke still covered the area, a thick layer of fog, and if it wasn’t for the glow around the burning man Ryan wouldn’t have had a chance at locating the Inheritor. The Source was nowhere to be found and while he didn’t know what kind of range a link could have, he was sure the Source wasn’t too far away. Not that it mattered because he couldn’t even see five feet in front of him.  
  
Shit, this was far more problematic than anticipated.  
  
Lifting up the automatic rifle, he fired at the man standing ablaze across the street. There was a shriek of pain as the man went down, and he was briefly grateful the fire hands on the roof disappeared as well. The flames still consumed the older roof, though, and it caved suddenly with a crash sending ash and debris up into the air to join the smoky fog.  
  
Coughing roughly from the polluted air, Ryan blinked blue eyes that were starting to burn and water. The mask provided only limited protection from the smoke, and it was becoming more of a hindrance every minute that passed. He needed to finish this up quickly, as the sirens were closer now. He only had a few minutes to wrap things up. He hoped that would be enough as he lined up another shot, but was delayed by a series of harsh coughs that gave the burning man just enough time to send a ring of fire bursting out in all directions.  
  
Ryan didn’t have much to use as cover, and with the siding of the house already catching fire from charred remains of a collapsed roof, his only option was to duck and roll behind a small doghouse. The small structure didn’t hold up,crumpling on top of him the second the fire pushed against it. With a snarl he kicked it off him, watching the damp wood hiss and catch fire. His leather jacket held up well, charring in a few spots on his right sleeve but otherwise remained intact. His jeans caught fire in several places and he spared a moment for a quick roll through the dirt. Damn, he’d liked these jeans.  
  
Snarling in frustration, Ryan clambered to his feet, gun poised and ready for this to end. This time he wasn’t going to miss, despite the thick smoke. Nearly every structure on the street was ablaze now, a beautiful halo of smoke shrouding the block. He felt like he was fighting in a separate world from his own, with literal _magic powers_ and shit.

The roar of the fire brought him back and made it near impossible to hear where the asshole was. The glow that had given him away before was gone, and for a moment Ryan thought he might have escaped, but a shout from the front yard gave the Inheritor away.  
  
“I need more!” the Inheritor called, “What the fuck is the hold up?!” He was no longer on fire, instead only his hair was wisping bits of ash around his head.  
  
“Yo, Marcus is dead!” Came the response, hollered from behind burning cars, “You fuckin’ almost killed me Daniel!”  
  
“Shit! Go! We gotta ru—”  
  
One final shot and the son of a bitch was dead, brains scattered amongst charred grass. The flames instantly ceased and the smoke remained the only clue as to what had just happened. With the barest hint of a limp Ryan stalked forward, regretting his fall. He was trying to see the man who had called from around back, but the very loud, very close wailing of the fire department’s sirens sent him on his way down the burning street without looking back.

Bursting into an abandoned house a few miles away, he shut the door and slid to the floor, clawing the mask off. He struggled to breathe, but after a few minutes of pained coughing and spitting out the remaining ash in his lungs. It had been years since he had felt so outmatched and outgunned.

When he opened them again, he could see the faint glow of sunlight, and he tried to calm his quickening heartbeat when he realized he’d slept. He sighed while picking up the mask, rolled his shoulders, and began the long walk back to the safehouse.  
  
He could already hear it now, Michael bitching about not being fed and Gavin whining that they were left alone for an entire day and how terrible Ryan was. Ryan let out a snort, what a couple of brats. Prisoners, yet they acted as if they owned the very cellar they were locked up in.  
  
With a grimace Ryan realized what he was about to have to do.

 

* * *

  
  
Michael had stooped so low in his boredom that he’d taken to banging his head against the concrete wall every few seconds for the last twenty-five minutes. The Vagabond hadn’t been in to see them in hours and not only was his stomach growling but he was so tired of sitting. With his hands cuffed around the piping he didn’t have the luxury of standing every once in awhile like Gavin, but he was able to lie down at least. And he’d slept some, sure, but he could only sleep for so long.  
  
Gavin had been quiet for a while, most likely in a nap of his own. Michael’s stomach growled, and he looked regretfully at Gavin’s sleeping figure, wishing he hadn’t thrown the last meal he might ever have at the blonde earlier. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried so hard to piss off the Vagabond. Their captor had been surprisingly easy on them, aside from beating his ass in the alley, the psycho hadn’t laid a single finger on them—a blessing really, because despite his bravado Michael really wasn’t looking forward to whatever might be in store for them.  
  
That was what was most frustrating in the end. Michael had been on the receiving end of situations like this, and they always became predictable. There was a system that worked like clockwork, and the ones who were tortured ended up adopting the same torture techniques if they made it out alive. From one sick bastard to the next, the same tired methods spread like wildfire through the city.  
  
But the Vagabond hadn’t followed any of it; he had treated Michael’s wounds, had stood silently and argued with them, and hadn’t tried beating in whatever message he wanted to send them. The guy hadn’t even really asserted his dominance, just fed them and left, possibly watching from afar for any attempt at escape though both of them knew better. The second they tried to escape—which Michael was still working on, he wasn’t stupid- but their options were so limited there was absolutely no way they could actually get out of the damn basement—the psychopath would eventually unleash every ounce of hell he’d been holding back on.

Michael had heard the stories, and none of them were pleasant to the ears. He didn’t know how long he would hold up, let alone how long Gavin would. Gavin wasn’t used to torture at all, and Michael inwardly cursed himself for letting Gav get taken with him. Screw it, he would just have to get them out before Vagabond came back.  
  
With a loud groan, Michael pulled violently against the cuffs, growing angrier at the loud rattle. Gavin huffed from across the room. Michael was absolutely not sorry.  
  
“Michael,” Gavin whined, “quit pulling at me.”  
  
“I’m not!” Michael denied with a frown. Had he? “Not on purpose.”  
  
“How long have we been here?”  
  
“Fuck if I know. He hasn’t come back.”  
  
Gavin let out his own groan, which definitely didn’t make Michael feel sorry for him. “My back is killing me Michael. Couldn’t he have cuffed us to beds or something?”  
  
“You need to lay down, Gavvy?” Michael arched an eyebrow despite knowing Gavin couldn’t see shit in the dark. “Link me.”  
  
“Why? Didn’t you say we should conserve it?”  
  
“Just trust me,” Michael assured, concentrating on tugging at the line of energy between them. It wasn’t something he could physically see even in daylight, but once they’d established the line the first time he could feel the link between them almost constantly, dormant and waiting to be used. Tugging at it mentally was almost reflexive, like squeezing a muscle. He felt the warmth that Gavin’s energy brought and flicked his hand, his catalyst for his powers to flow.  
  
Slowly, gravity released its hold on him and from the sound of clinking across the room Gavin’s did as well. He was weightless in the dark, and _oh_ , if that wasn’t heavenly as shit. He’d heard about the weightless chambers some people entered to relax—the small rooms filled halfway with water and pitch black to imitate this very feeling—but he imagined it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as actually floating.  
  
“Michael,” Gavin said with a squawk, “this is so weird!”  
  
“Yeah, but it feels good, right?” Michael stretched, almost bumping his head on the wall, sighing contentedly. He snorted as Gavin actually did hit the wall.  
  
“It’s top Michael! Ah, it’s great to stretch out again!”  
  
He’d never used his powers on Gavin before. He had used them on himself a few times, floating up to things he couldn’t reach, even as high as the roof of a two story building, but never as softly as this. Using just the barest hints of his powers in an effort to conserve Gavin’s energy, he was able to gently float them around as if they were in space.  
  
And so they floated in comfortable silence for what felt like mere minutes before the squeaky door was thrown open and with a cry of pain from the light assaulting their eyes, Michael dropped the line and the two of them fell back to the concrete floor with a crash. Gavin had landed in a spectacular fashion, twisted in the chain of his cuffs, long legs every which way in an effort to keep himself somewhat upright. Michael had just landed flat on his back, knocking his head against the pipe and biting his tongue when his jaw was snapped shut. He immediately spat out the slow trickle of blood that brought, irritated.  
  
The Vagabond was shadowed by the lights behind him, but Michael could tell by the way he was holding himself that the creep was definitely not in the shape he’d been in when he’d left them. Injured ribs were most likely, Michael could tell, by the way he’d gingerly stepped down the stairs, shifting his weight carefully as he went.  
  
As he stepped down, the light went from shadowing him to highlighting exactly how dirty he was. Ash covered the Vagabond in layers, streaking across black leather and flaking off of blue jeans with every movement. The leather of his jacket was singed in places, and there was a small hole in his mask near the top where Michael could see a tuft of blonde hair peeking through. Michael raised his eyebrows, glad he’d come back in a twisted sort of way. If he’d died, they would have been stuck in this shitty basement.  
  
“Damn, you got wrecked.” Michael spoke up, voice slightly gravelly from disuse.  
  
“Did you blow yourself up?” Gavin chimed in from his side of the room. “You smell smoky.” There was a beat, as they waited for Vagabond to respond in some way. The silence was pretty awkward, and Michael fought the urge to hum the Jeopardy theme.  
  
“There are rules,” the Vagabond started slowly, “and I expect you to follow every single one down to the last detail.”  
  
Holy shit.  
  
Michael stared up at him, eyes widening, glancing over to Gavin after a moment to find him mirroring his same expression. Then, Michael’s lips twisting into a grin.  
  
“You got your ass kicked by an Inheritor.” He laughed. He laughed despite knowing that it could blow the entire deal the Vagabond was about to make with them, because he was _fucking_ right and the Vagabond was about to admit that. As he damn well should.  
  
“Michael,” Gavin sputtered, only to let out a giggle of his own, “Michael it’s not—it’s not funny.”  
  
“Yes it fucking is! Oh my God, dude, he’s—”  
  
Three consecutive bullets hit the wall above Michael’s head and the laughter abruptly stopped. The posture of a tired, beaten man had instantly become one of an aggressive trained hit man. The gun was not lowered, and with arm held out steady Michael could tell he was itching to fire again.  
  
Fuck. He’d pushed it. Whatever, he was still right and it was hilarious.  
  
“There are rules,” the Vagabond started again, gruff and threatening, “and for every one you break, I’ll break a piece of you. I don’t trust you, I don’t like you, and I don’t _need_ you, but I can use you. You do what I say, you live to see another day.”  
  
“There are rules with us, too.” Gavin protested. “You have to work with us. A partnership.”  
  
Michael watched the Vagabond turn his head slowly to look at Gavin. The tension was thick now, and Michael fidgeted nervously, but Gavin didn’t back down. Michael watched as Gavin held Vagabond’s gaze without so much as a twitch.  
  
“No, partners trust each other.” was the gruff response. “You’ll earn that. Right now you are a tool that I am going to use.”  
  
“I won’t work with you unless you agree to my terms. Michael—” There was a sound, and Vagabond growled.  
  
Michael ducked low, flat on his stomach as another bullet flew into the wall with a loud pop.  
  
“What the _fuck_?” He snarled.  
  
The Vagabond hadn’t even turned to look back at him, the dick. Gavin had, though. The Source looked to him with frightened eyes, and Michael wanted to kill the Vagabond, knowing Gavin wouldn’t last a second without Michael. That, and Michael wanted pretty desperately to live. After a beat of silence, Gavin stood. His face contorted with fury, he stood down Vagabond.  
  
“Kill him and you won’t get a drop of power!” Gavin shouted, standing up with his little chest puffed up. “He has to teach you how to use me or this is pointless. You’ll end up killing me anyways and you won’t get anything from us.”  
  
“You’re in charge, we get it!” Michael added quickly. He’d seen the masked man’s hand twitch towards Gav, and he couldn’t have that. They stayed frozen, coiled tight with fear and anxiety as the Vagabond took a breath, deciding their fates.  
  
“Okay, Michael lives,” the Vagabond answered back slowly, “and since I’m feeling generous, I’ll allow one more condition and then you’ll listen to every single one of mine without complaint.”  
  
Gavin’s shoulders slumped back into a relaxed position. “Alright.”  
  
Shit, Michael knew where this was going to go. “Gavin, don’t you fuck this up—” He’d forget something important, he knew it. Gavin was going to ask for something ridiculous and Vagabond would just up and shoot them anyways.  
  
“I want you to treat us like people!” Gavin nodded to himself, as if confirming that yes, he’d nailed it, and Michael wanted a little less to strangle the idiot. “People get beds and aren’t stuffed into a bloody basement. You have to ask us questions and get to know us. You take care of us and we’ll take care of you, like people.” He paused to think, and tilting his head, looked at Vagabond with concern. “Besides, you would be better off with partners. Like you said, you have to trust us for that. Which takes more than using us like tools,”  
  
The Vagabond snorted, but stayed silent otherwise. It could have been worse, Michael thought. He would have rather had weapons permitted so they could kill the son of a bitch later if they had to—or maybe termination of the contract in six months, but sleeping in a bed instead of being shoved down here after the Vagabond was done with them worked, Michael supposed.  
  
The Vagabond considered the proposal for a moment before lowering the gun. Michael slowly lifted himself back up onto his knees with a wince. His damn leg was still on fire and quick movements, not to mention falling on his back earlier, really hadn’t helped.  
  
“Done.” The asshole agreed and Gavin beamed at him like he’d just negotiated the damn Louisiana Purchase. The asshole had barely even done anything. “Rule number one, you don’t go anywhere without me knowing. I tell you to sit and stay put, I expect you on the ground where I last left you.”  
  
“ _People_ —” Gavin protested.  
  
“You can wander the house, eat the food, and do what you need to do to make yourself comfortable.” The Vagabond prattled on without a missed beat. “But if I give you an order you obey. No questions, no whining.”  
  
Fat chance of that, Michael prayed Gavin would keep his impulsivity controlled, knowing they were likely to die in days with that rule. Gavin grimaced, not liking it, but nodded. After the Vagabond turned his way, Michael shrugged.  
  
“Rule number two; you don’t withhold any information from me.” Vagabond stepped closer, hammering in his point. “No secrets, no plots. If you even so much as break a fingernail you tell me. And rule number three, you keep your mouth shut about this. You are now officially my _people_ and if word gets around that my _people_ are saying things they shouldn’t I won’t have any _people_ anymore.”  
  
They were given a minute to think about the offer. Vagabond waited almost patiently, Gavin was swallowing thickly in his corner and staring at his shoes, encompassed in thought, but Michael had a question of his own.  
  
“So you’ll protect us, right? Because there are still assholes out there looking for Sources.”  
  
“As it was proposed, you use me, I use you.” The Vagabond clarified. “To a point.” He shrugged, as if to add, _‘I guess’_.  
  
“Deal!” Gavin piped up.  
  
Well, they were officially locked into this… pseudo partnership thing. Honestly Michael didn’t really expect their demands to be met, but if even the Vagabond—big bad hit man of the city who had absolutely no loyalties—was going to risk his secrets getting spilled to get a Source on his side, then the city was about to be the playground of some scary shit. Michael was looking forward to that at least, he’d get a chance to wreak some havoc.  
  
“So are you going to let us out of here anytime soon or will I have to piss in the bucket again?” Michael groused. “I’m pretty sure my wrists are bleeding, and I’d really like to fucking sit in a chair.”  
  
“Rule number two,” came the drawl, and the Vagabond sat himself down on the bottom step with a grunt, “no secrets, no plots. I want everything you know about Sources.”  
  
Michael blinked, confused. “I told you already. Sources give powers; you link up, you get the powers. Take too much and he dies, don’t be a greedy asshole and pace yourself.”  
  
Vagabond crossed his arms, asking, “Is that everything?” It was suggestive, a dare for Michael to lie.  
  
Michael narrowed his eyes and stared back at the creepy black skull mask in an attempt to figure out just what the hell the Vagabond was trying to get at. There wasn’t much else to tell, and he wasn’t sure what the Vagabond wanted. Michael was more of a hands on teacher and giving a verbal essay of the nuances of a link made him want to set something on fire. Swallowing, he asked,  
  
“What more do you want to know? You want a play by play of how we link? Is that it?”  
  
“So you don’t know shit about Inheritors?” Vagabond sounded almost amused, but Michael backpedaled because fuck, he hadn’t even thought about that. Or—shit, or the kickbacks to the powers. Or how Gavin reacts if you link without asking—  
  
And the Vagabond just sat there on the steps as Michael thought about how what he’d told this asshole wasn’t even scratching the surface. And he kind of needed to know these things if they were going to survive fighting against other Sources and Inheritors.  
  
“Alright, so I forgot to mention those. And I guess a few other things… I guess this might take a while.” Rubbing furiously at his forehead he struggled to put it in some kind of chronological order. “I guess we should start at the beginning, but—”  
  
“Hello, I’m Gavin.” Gavin cut him off, and grinned to Vagabond. He held out a cuffed hand for a handshake they all knew wasn’t going to happen, as if forgetting who had cuffed him. “This is Michael. He yells a lot, but he’s a swell fellow.”  
  
“Gavin.” Michael sighed. “Just—” Sometimes he wished he could mute the idiot, he was just so damn stupid and would get them killed one day.  
  
“But I want to tell the story of how we met!” Gavin looked legitimately disappointed, as if it would be vital information to Vagabond.  
  
“I don’t think he cares about that,” Michael glanced to their new partner, who was silently watching. Creepy.  
  
“Well it is a bloody great story, Michael. Why wouldn’t he want to hear it?”  
  
Michael rolled his eyes, and since Vagabond wasn’t moving to kill him, decided to answer. “Oh, I don’t know, Gavin, because he didn’t fucking ask?”  
  
“Well you aren’t exactly answering his questions, Michael. You’re just blubbering about all fibbly.” Gavin smirked, proud to finally have one over on him.  
  
“Shut up, I was getting there but you decided to interrupt!” Michael flushed red. It’s not like he remembered everything that he’d learned over the last few months.  
  
“Why don’t we take turns, yeah? Then it’ll be fair!” Gavin turned brightly to Vagabond, ready to continue the conversation.  
  
“I don’t care how you do it, just answer the question.” Vagabond finally cut in, waving the gun about in a bored fashion. Gavin perked up at his response and finally began filling him in.  
  
“Inheritors are the people who can use the powers.” Gavin tried to gesture, cuffs clinking as he reached the end of his chain. “They can only link to a willing Source, and when they draw enough energy from a Source they can manifest powers. It’s hard to explain what it feels like, but it’s weird the first time you do it.” He said with a sharp nod, as if to prove he wasn’t lying.  
“It’s weird for me too. Not a nice feeling having all of my energy sucked out through the line. I get so cold, sometimes nothing helps.”  
  
“Yeah, well, being the one drawing energy has its issues too.” Michael glanced back at Gavin, who was beaming. Idiot. “When we link, usually I try to ration Gavin’s energy. He’s got quite a bit, but you never know when someone will come out of the blue that could be stronger. He’s usually tired, but it’s not like he’s gonna collapse and make you drag him everywhere—although sometimes we overdo it, and he’s dead on his feet. Me, I usually throw up if we use it too much.”

Gavin made a disgusted noise.  
  
“It’s awful when he retches, really.” He directed this at Vagabond, who seemed lost in thought.  
  
“Shut up. You’re usually passed out anyways, so what do you know?” Michael threw back, but it lacked heat.  
  
“Not always. There was that time when you—”  
  
“How did you know he could link up with me in that alley?” the Vagabond interrupted, “Is there some sort of sign?”  
  
“Nah,” Michael shrugged, thinking quickly. “you just looked like an asshole. Assholes can usually link.”  
  
“Actually, I can sense them.” Gavin admitted sheepishly and ignored the glare Michael sent his way. “They pull at the line. Usually I tell them to bugger off, but sometimes we use it to our advantage.”  
  
“That thing you did in the alley.”  
  
“Yeah,” Gavin’s face twisted and Michael knew he was remembering the pain. “I’ll link and then snap the line. It hurts, but it gets the job done.”  
  
“Bitches don’t know what hit ‘em.” Michael sneered, trying to move on. “It’s our secret weapon when Gavin’s out of juice.” Vagabond nodded again, and addressed Michael.  
  
“And what are your powers, exactly?”  
  
Michael hesitated, wondering just how much he should give away. So far the guy had only seen him float people, he had no idea that Michael could reverse gravity as well. But they _were_ going to have to work together so he’d find out eventually exactly what Michael could do, which could backfire.  
  
“I can control gravity.” He admitted with a shrug. “Increase or decrease it on anything.” It wasn’t the most useful power, but it had come in handy lately.  
  
He watched carefully as the Vagabond tossed the gun to the floor, retreating to sit on the stairs. There was no way for Michael reach it, but it was a little bit of a comfort to have it not in the hands of the lunatic on the stairs.  
  
“Use it on the gun,” came the order. Gavin huffed a bit from his corner, but Michael gave him a sharp look. _This is your fault you idiot, so do as the crazy man says._ With a small pout, energy flowed across a line they hadn’t completely disconnected, and as soon as Michael felt the warmth, he concentrated on the energy filling him. With the smallest of waves from his hand the gun clattered against the concrete floor before slowly floating up about two feet.  
  
“Reverse it.”  
  
Michael bit his cheek so he wouldn’t say what he was thinking, and slowly reversed the flow, tacking on more gravity once it was safely on the ground. He didn’t want it to accidentally go off and hit him or Gavin. Feeling particularly spiteful, Michael crushed it into the ground, bending the metal with how forceful he was. He released the line and heard Gavin breathe a small sigh of relief. He felt a wave of guilt, he should have left it alone, knowing how tired Gavin was.  
  
“Well,” the Vagabond said, a small grunt forced from the back of his throat as he brought himself to a stand once more, “you may be more useful than I thought. How long does it take to recharge?”  
  
“That depends.” Gavin answered, large nose scrunched up. “A couple of days if I’ve been bled nearly dry, a bit of a nap if you don’t use much.”  
  
“What about now?” He was fucking tense, Michael realized. Didn’t like being this near them.  
  
Gavin shrugged. “That wasn’t anything compared to what we usually do, but snapping a line takes a bit out of me.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Michael _really_ didn’t like the sound of that.  
  
Their captor slowly ascended the stairs, and the two of them watched him go without a word. The door remained open, and heavy footsteps trailed around the floor above them for a minute before the Vagabond was back with a slight limp down the old steps once more. In his hand were keys, and Gavin was released first with a small whimper of discomfort. He rubbed at his wrists, looking up to Vagabond gratefully.

“Thanks, mate. Those are a right pain.” Vagabond nodded, moving to the other side of the room. Michael kept his eyes trained on Gavin while his own cuffs were unlocked and removed. With a hiss, he too rubbed at the red marks and dried blood the cuffs had left, grunting while pushing his way to his feet.  
  
His leg throbbed painfully, and when the Vagabond beckoned for them to follow him up the rickety steps Gavin immediately threw Michael’s right arm over the back of his neck. Michael could feel him gripping lightly at Michael’s wrist to keep him there, could smell the gel the other man used. Gavin’s other arm snuck around Michael’s waist and allowing the extra support, Michael took a painful step forward. He leaned more on Gavin, who lowly encouraged Michael, who stubbornly ignored the goosebumps that caused. Moron, breathing on his face like that.

It took a bit of fumbling to get up the stairs, but eventually they were greeted with a barely furnished living room. Michael strode right for the couch, almost dragging Gavin with him. He forgot how painful being shot really was and his pride was already shattered the moment they agreed to work under the Vagabond, so he grumbled about needing painkillers. It definitely had nothing to do with getting some distance between him and Gavin.  
  
Gavin moved away, and while he didn’t expect a glass of water and a pair of tan pills shoved into his hands moments later, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and swallowed them down. He heard Gavin nervously flitting about the kitchen, opening drawers here and there, pretending not to be the absolute snoop he was. It didn’t seem to bother the Vagabond, and that only affirmed to Michael that this wasn’t the creep’s main hangout.  
  
It was late into the night, if the quiet of outside was any indicator. He couldn’t hear any cars driving by and while it was only early fall, the bugs weren’t humming and the frogs weren’t croaking like he expected. It was disorienting, not knowing what time of day it was or how long had passed since they’d slept. Regardless, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were _safe_.

He quirked an eyebrow at the Vagabond.

“What now?”  
  
The Vagabond leaned against the front door with his arms crossed like he was still their jailor. “Now you teach me how to use a Source.”


	4. Chapter 4

The three of them were gathered in the shabby living room, Michael still seated on the plush couch against the far wall. The Vagabond stood in the center of the small room opposite a nervous Gavin, and the current lighting only illuminated the mask and how threatening a figure he was. 

Gavin looked sharply to Michael, locking eyes with him in an effort to ask for help—for some sort of reassurance that they made the right choice. The looming man in front of him was shifting his weight impatiently and Gavin could feel the pull on his line uncomfortably strong, and it was frustrating to be expected to just start a line when the guy had absolutely no manners about it. Michael didn’t have any manners at first, either, but Gavin took the blame for that one. He hadn’t guided Michael into the proper way of drawing from him—not that Gavin really knew the proper way himself, but that was another story for another day—and it took snapping the line between them only once for Michael to get it.

Gavin wasn’t so sure just one snap was going to do it for the Vagabond, especially considering he’d basically shrugged the last one off.

“Gav, calm down. If he starts to take too much you know what to do.” Michael told him. He then turned to their new partner, glaring. “Look, he doesn’t like to be pushed into this, you fucking know that. Ask before you do anything.”

Gavin wished he could also be stubborn and grouchy like their captor, or Michael, who'd just scowled at the Vagabond like it was no big deal.

Instead he stood almost cowering, wide eyed and waiting for the man to just say something—anything, but the silence stretched as the pull only grew stronger, and Gavin scowled inwardly at how long it was taking. He wasn’t going to comply like this, just wordlessly handing over his energy. He sounded like a virgin protecting his purity,  but he wasn’t just going to hand it over to anyone who didn’t take the proper course of action; that was how a Source ended up cold and dead. Waiting to be respected was worth it.

“Well?” Gavin huffed, finally. “You’ve promised to follow the rules.”

A shift in posture, hands clenching, and the barest hint of a growl behind that bloody mask told Gavin it would probably take longer than they had anticipated to get along enough to make a link happen.

“Can I draw from you?”

It was quiet, rushed, and clearly insincere, but Gavin beamed. He didn’t really care what made the Vagabond finally give in, so Gavin let loose the energy with a slight nod, focusing on allowing the heat that always settled within his body to go through the invisible line connecting them. Since the building block of setting up the line had already been established, it only took half the time as before for the energy to pass from Gavin to the Vagabond. Gavin could see the masked man shift again, uncomfortable, but not exhibiting any sign of super abilities.

A minute of feeding the line, then two, and still nothing but silence. Gavin stood uncomfortably and watched the Vagabond fidget. He said nothing until Michael sighed.

“Are you doing it?” Michael asked, rubbing absently at his injured leg.

“Yes. I dunno, do you feel any different?” Gavin tilted his head at their new companion, watching expectantly for anything to happen.

“A bit hot.” The masked man replied flatly. He didn’t seem too rushed to take more energy, but Gavin still jumped when he spoke.

“Yeah, that’s Gavin’s energy. Try doing something, like, wave your arm or something and see what happens.”

The man did as Michael suggested, but still nothing.

“Maybe it’s mental? Can you hear what I’m thinking?” Gavin thought something very rude, and couldn’t help the snicker that came out of his mouth at the thought. “Did you hear it?”

“No.”

Gavin frowned. That was disappointing. “You’re sure you don’t feel any different?”

No response.

“He’s definitely an Inheritor?”

“I’m sure. He’s been pulling at me harder than you.” Gavin fidgeted. “Maybe he just needs more?”

Another minute went by and Gavin could feel goosebumps prickle the skin of his arms and back. He stifled a shiver, but he had already allowed a good amount of energy to flow through the line and to have nothing happen was not only frustrating, but a complete waste of his energy. Surely it had to be something they’ve missed. Michael usually waved his hands about and the magic happened, but maybe with the Vagabond it was something different.

“Could you, I dunno—” In the middle of his suggestion, the Vagabond shifted on his feet.

The effect was immediate. As soon as the Vagabond moved he was very suddenly and violently face first into a wall. Gavin blinked, unsure how the man got from point A to point B and struggling to piece it together in his head.

“Mother fucker!” came the snarl and Vagabond turned sharply around and was once again suddenly and violently face first into the opposite wall, this time the drywall flaked and cracked when he pulled himself out of the dent he’d just made. “What the hell?”

Michael was in stitches, laughing and snickering in his seat and Gavin would have joined him but he was still trying to figure out what in the world had just happened. He kept the line stable, still feeding into it in the hopes that he could see whatever was going on once more so he could just make his brain _understand_.

“Oh my god!” Michael wheezed. “Dude, _slow down_!”

The laughing escalated into cackling and Gavin could feel all of the hairs on his head stand straight up. While the mask covered the Vagabond’s face, his eyes were still visible and Gavin could see the anger beamed directly at him. The urge to run was nearly unstoppable but by the time he got his legs to move the man had slammed into him and he was flat on his back in a tangle of limbs. Michael’s laughter stopped abruptly.

“Hey, get off of him!”

“What the fuck is this? You playing games?” The Vagabond hissed at Gavin, pulling himself up and off the Source.

“What? No,” Gavin groaned, “I don’t have any control over—”

The Vagabond smashed his fist into the hardwood floor next to Gavin’s head and Gavin got a clear view of his eyes as the hit man brought their faces close together.

“Get the fuck off of him!” Michael snarled, getting up on to wobbly legs. “It isn’t his fucking fault you suck at controlling your own powers, asshole.”

“You’re supposed to be teaching me, so fucking teach!” The Vagabond snarled, whirling around to face the other half of Team Nice Dynamite.

Shite, this went to hell quickly.

“It’s super speed, innit?” When in doubt, distract from the problem. Gavin tried to stay calm. If he could get the man to focus on how that might be useful, they could start again, and Gavin would give as much as it took to keep them safe. “So maybe Michael’s right, if you walk a little slower you might be able to control it better.”

Gavin wasn’t necessarily ignored, but the mini chest puffing contest going down between his two teammates was clearly more important than responding to Gavin’s _obviously_ brilliant idea. It ended without a fight, thank Christ, and the Vagabond returned to his feet, not bothering to offer Gavin a hand. Gavin hadn't paid enough attention to who had won the silent battle, but the scowl on Michael's face made him nervous.

“Alright, you want my help, then actually listen instead of just getting angry, fuckhead.” Michael brought his tone down from threatening to agitated, although it was barely noticeable when his volume stayed the same. “Gavin is just the power source. You control everything that energy does. So it’s your fault if your powers are shit and out of control, got it? Taking it out on him is like kicking a dog for pissing on the carpet when you don’t take it outside all day.”

Gavin loved Michael, he really did, but the dog metaphors were starting to get to him. Michael didn’t really see him as a dog, did he? He decided to put his complaint on the long list of concerns he had—which included just about nearly everything that had happened to him in the last seven months—and instead focused on keeping the line stable.

Their little tumble had nearly knocked it loose and Gavin wasn’t so sure if he wanted to start it back up with such an agitated Inheritor. The pull was always strongest with heavy emotions, anger being particularly intense. That tended to lead to Gavin being knocked on his ass and recovering from severe energy loss was _not fun_.

A rough hand pulled Gavin up by his shirt and with a squawk he stumbled to gain his balance. Once properly on his feet, the hand fisted in his shirt released the cotton fabric and smoothed it back out carefully. A non-verbal apology, Gavin realized. He was still a bit ruffled, but he appreciated the gesture.

The Vagabond took a breath, deep and calming. Gavin didn’t realize that he had followed along until piercing blue eyes flicked back to him. Gavin had never been close enough to see them so clearly, they were pale blue against the black of not only the mask, but was that black _paint_ underneath?

“Let’s get this done.”

Michael huffed at Vagabond’s words, but he still looked on edge. His hands were fisted into the brown leather of his jacket and he stayed on his feet despite Gavin knowing his boy was in pain.

“Well? How am I supposed to walk slower when I can’t even take a step without planting myself into the wall?” Vagabond gestured to the offending object, irritated.

“Well if it’s speed, then maybe it isn’t just your legs?” Gavin shrugged, unsure.

“He already tried waving his arms and nothing happened.” Michael argued, having collapsed back on the couch. “It has to be his legs.”

“Well what if just waving them isn’t enough? What if you, I dunno, hammered something, or snapped your fingers?”

“I don’t think that’s the problem.” The Vagabond sighed. “What do you do to control your powers?”

Gavin perked up intently. They had never discussed the process of using the powers, only linking. Michael had seemed to just gain control over time, and Gavin had been focused on keeping the line up and usable.

“At first I could only make things float. Feeling Gavin’s energy freaked me out too much to focus on anything else, but I guess I just got used to it.” Michael shrugged. “Stopped paying that much attention once we practiced linking up and staying linked; you’re probably using too much energy at once.”

Gavin nodded to himself absently. “That makes sense.”

“How long will this take?”

Gavin wished Vagabond didn't sound so frustrated already, this would take a while like that. He decided to stay quiet for once, letting Michael take the question.

“Don’t fucking know, dude. I’m not you.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Maybe years, if you snap at him every goddamn time.”

Gavin very quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to comment on that very true statement. They really wouldn’t get anywhere with outbursts of anger all of the time. It was too hard to stabilize the energy. Michael never understood the sheer amount of focus and work it took to keep energy flowing and keep track of his own energy pool. If he didn’t pay enough attention he was dead. It was far too easy to surrender it all without a second thought.

“How long can you hold the line?” The Vagabond directed the question at him, and Gavin snapped back to attention.

“Uh, if it’s just holding the line, a long time. It doesn’t take much to just hold it open. The trick is you not pulling anything through.”

“I thought you were the one to push the energy through.”

Gavin looked away, eyebrows furrowing.

“No, I start the flow, but the speed is all you. Can you feel yourself pulling at me?” Gavin had never asked Michael, but they hadn’t had to think about it. The partnership seemed effortless compared to a forced link. “It’s going pretty fast through me to you.”

The Vagabond was quiet, thoughtful. For a moment Gavin thought he might have forgotten the question, but he spoke up after a bit, slow and inquisitive. “If I pull harder than I am now, will you confirm it?”

“Yes.”

It took almost exactly seven seconds for the pull to abruptly speed up and Gavin’s heart rate skyrocketed. The breath was knocked from his lungs, his energy rapidly depleting. His hands shook slightly as a cold sweat started to break out on his forehead. Nausea and lightheadedness struck at the same time, and Gavin nearly cut the line out of panic.

“Stop.” He managed to choke out through the nausea.

The flow stopped completely and Gavin let the line drop. He wavered, feeling light and cold. He blinked away a couple of spots in his vision and realized that far too quickly he had been drained down almost to where he’d been at the start of this mess, when the Vagabond had beaten the shit out Michael and they had used the last of what Gavin had been willing to spare. Michael had done a real number on his stores and to be back to nearly nothing had him crumpled down to his hands and knees, panting out at the exertion of the draw.

“Gav, hey boi, you okay?” Michael was trying to struggle up off the couch, looking worried.

“Top, Michael.” He reassured weakly, shooting a thumbs up in the Vagabond’s general direction. “Whatever you did, that was it.”

“Fuck, Gavin—”

From the sound of disjointed footsteps Gavin was pretty sure Michael was hobbling over to his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head. He didn’t want to risk passing out or vomiting everywhere. He was fairly positive he’d be forced to clean it up.

“We need to practice linking first.” The Vagabond said. “This can’t happen outside of the house.”

Gavin felt Michael lay a hand on his shoulder, keeping him off the ground.

“Whatever, asshole, you fucking drained him.” Gavin imagined the scowl Michael was giving Vagabond, and smiled through the churning in his stomach.

One hand, gentle, but firm, was on one shoulder and another was wrapped under him, pushing up against his chest. He was guided into sitting up on just his knees and Michael was slapping lightly at his cheek. What for, Gavin wasn’t sure.

“Bed,” Gavin keened, smacking away the offending hand. “I was promised.”

“Down the hall. There’s only one, so you either share or one of you takes the couch.”

“Bed, asshole. Come on.” Michael said dryly.

Gavin couldn’t care less if Michael snuggled with him or if he was left alone, he just wanted to lie down and pray the nausea went away quickly. Actually, now that the cold had seeped in, he’d really rather Michael shared some body heat. He didn’t voice the opinion, however, just let himself be hoisted up and over the Vagabond’s shoulder and carried down the hall. He was tucked into the bed—old and a bit smelly—and was out almost the second his head hit the pillow.

He didn’t even feel the weight of an extra blanket fall over his shivering frame or hear the unintelligible argument brewing outside of the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

The argument about Gavin’s well being was short. Ryan’d been lectured before the practice link about the dangers of sucking a Source dry, but as he felt the heat of the energy, he hadn’t anticipated the feeling of _pulling it out_ of Gavin. It had been a bit intoxicating, a need that grew stronger the second he could control it. But then he’d felt the energy thin, and Gavin had become pale and panicked. 

To feel the potential of ending the kid’s life with his greed for power was something very different than the feeling of smashing someone’s skull in with a baseball bat while they whispered pleas of forgiveness or bribes for mercy. Ryan was in control of how hard he swung a bat, but for a moment he wasn’t in control of pulling out every last drop of energy Gavin had to offer. It was no wonder Sources died left and right. He rubbed his hands together, as if to rid himself of the thought.

Michael was more than justified in drilling in every last sign that Gavin was struggling. The Brit had a few different tells and a lot of symptoms after the link ended,

_“He’s weak and shaky, vomits and complains of a headache like the bitch he is.” Michael pointed at Ryan’s chest, enraged. “He faints when it gets real bad, but the main tell is heat. You got all the heat from the energy you took, while Gav lost all his. Be more careful, asshole!”_

Ryan filed the information away for later. If he started shivering, he was close to empty.

For two days Ryan watched carefully for the shivering when they held the line for hours. And for two days he dealt with the groaning and moaning of having nothing to eat but hotdogs. There weren’t any buns left, and it was a far less filling meal with just two dogs each twice a day, but Ryan wasn’t exactly confident in leaving them at the safehouse while he went out to collect groceries. Nor was he confident that if he brought them with him, even with Gavin mostly drained so they couldn’t turn on him, that he’d be able to protect them from the Source hunters they often griped about.

He almost said fuck it and just left their asses when Michael broke out in song one morning. Gavin had joined in immediately, and the musical number they improvised would have been impressive if it hadn’t been so damn annoying to hear _It’s a Hard Knock Life_ and watch as Gavin threw the blanket he’d been wrapped up in into the air.

_“Cotton blankets, ‘stead of wool!” shrieked a heavy cockney accent._

Damn ungrateful brats.

They were bored, he knew because he was a bit stir crazy himself. He wasn’t able to explore the city, nor was Hector calling with any sort of job. He was low on cash, there was no television, and he did his best to ignore the shenanigans his _people_ got up to. They spent five hours constructing a pillow fort only to argue about its structural integrity and tear it down again. Ryan almost gave them advice, almost dragged in a chair from one of the neighbor’s porches to help stabilize the main blanket, but instead he moved into the kitchen and reorganized the spoons.

Michael and Gavin had opted to take the bedroom and share the small bed. Ryan was more than happy to let them and get his peace and quiet on the couch. It was easier to hear what was going on outside anyhow. He was always up before them and always fell asleep after, and had often taken to wandering the house every hour or so as a sort of security ritual.

He spent another four days carefully drawing energy at a reasonable pace and desperately struggled not to faceplant into any more walls. He was highly unsuccessful. Michael giggled about it every damn time, and if Ryan didn’t _really_ need him, he would’ve put him down in the most painful way he could think of, besides, there were a few he hadn’t practiced in quite a while.

But on the fifth day of meticulously rationing Gavin’s energy for the day he managed to do a lap around the living room without either of the two noticing he had even moved. Gavin had reported a slight increase of flow in the line after all was said and done, but Ryan had not only successfully linked and drew from a Source, but he had conquered his super speed. Fucking _finally_.

“Please, I’m begging you here, just order a damn pizza. Anything but those fucking hotdogs.” Michael whined, sitting still as Ryan pulled at the bandages around the Inheritor’s leg. The wound had healed nicely with no infection, and with any luck, wouldn’t affect the kid’s walk. He had good aim, but he hadn’t exactly been careful. “Seriously, anything.”

“Extra cheese.” Gavin piped up, currently sprawled out on the floor near a heating vent.

“Not out here.” Ryan said sharply, and tied off the bandage, tapping twice on the side of Michael’s thigh so he would move the injured limb off of Ryan’s lap. “This is a safe house.”

“Yeah, okay, so just go pick one up. We’ll be good little boys and stay put.” Michael rolled his eyes, but Ryan could tell he’d meant it. They probably would still be here when he got back.

“Stand up, walk on it.” Ryan ordered instead, standing himself to survey the damage. “I said no.”

“ _People_.” Gavin whined. “You still haven’t even asked us any questions. We don’t even know your name!”

Ryan didn’t intend to tell them anything, if he could help it. He started packing up the first aid kit, meticulously rolling the gauze and stacking it all neatly.

Michael did as he was told and walked around the living room with a small twirl at the end, to emphasize the fact that he was fine. Ryan was considering placing a bet that the next thing out of the brat’s mouth was about going with him to get pizza.

Ryan won. Against himself, so technically he still lost, but he counted it a win.

“Let us go with you then. I’m not eating another fucking hotdog.” Michael punctuated this with a sharp kick to the couch next to him.

Ryan wasn’t about to leave his safe house with next to no ammo; to get more he’d need their cooperation. In order to do that he needed to prove he could play nice, and they really needed to get the link down so if worse came to worst, they would at least be able to defend themselves.

Gavin sat up instantly at Michael’s proposition, eyes hopeful as Ryan thought of a question to ask the two of them to shut them up about the damn pizza.

He closed the first aid kit with a snap, not looking at either of them. “How old are you?

“Twenty-two.” Michael grumbled, as Ryan hadn’t exactly been subtle.

Gavin was less grumpy with his answer, chirping out that he was, “Twenty-one!”

“Then act your damn ages, and eat the hotdogs.” Ryan rolled his eyes behind his mask; the itch of having it on so long had started to fray at his patience long ago. “I won’t compromise the safe house and I don’t have enough ammo to ward off half the city in case someone recognizes you.”

There was a vulnerability in admitting the lack of firepower, but the three of them had managed to get along well enough over the past week, and while Ryan was still gruff and kept them at a safe distance, it was hard not to relax a bit listening to the playful banter between the two. They poked fun at him on occasion, and it was a bit amusing to hear them guess what he was hiding under the mask. Even when he growled at them to leave it.

He dared not admit to himself that he was a bit fond of them, but he told himself that they were useful, he could shape them into a somewhat functional team given time.

“If it’s ammo you need I’ve got a shit ton at my place.”

He snapped his attention to Michael, who shifted his weight back and forth between legs, testing the strength of the injured one. Michael just looked at him expectant, arms crossed.

“Earth to the Vagabond. I _said_ I’ve got a shit ton of ammo. Let’s go get it, and then we can go get a damn pizza. Hell, let’s rob the fucking joint, I don’t care. I just never want to see a hotdog again.”

“We’ve never robbed a pizza place before.” Gavin picked at a loose thread in his jeans. “I’d reckon they don’t have much, in the way of cash. Speaking of, Michael, aren’t we past due for rent?”

Michael groaned, running a hand down his face. “ _Fuck_ , Jim’s a real bitch about being late, too.”

“How much ammo are we talking?” Ryan almost wanted to snap, like bringing a child with ADHD back to the topic at hand. “A few bullets and a couple of guns or…?”

“Nah, I’ve got loads of neat toys. Flamethrowers, explosives, a shit ton of ammo, and at least ten guns. Some of ‘em are semi-automatic—I think I have an AK-47 in there somewhere.” Michael thought for a moment, counting wordlessly on his fingers. “It’s a fucking pain in the ass to keep Gavin safe, so I’ve bulked up over time. Jim’s a real bitch about it, but after we caught him with that hooker, he agreed to let us keep it there.” He ended his comment with a shark-like grin, flashing it at Gavin smugly.

“Jim’s wife is a bit…” Gavin made a gesture with his hand, as if it would explain everything. “It wouldn’t be good if she found out.”

“And it’s all where, exactly?” Point at hand, Ryan was still worried about the guns. He didn’t give a shit about Jim or his wife.

“I’m not just going to tell you,” Michael scoffed, “We go together. I don’t want your paws all over my stuff so I never see it again.”

Michael could be a real bitch when he wanted.

Right. Well, it was fair in hindsight. He really was just planning on picking it all up and storing it someplace else. At least one of the two had some brains. With a sigh, Ryan glanced back at Gavin, still picking at his jeans. The two hadn’t had clothes to change into, and there wasn’t a washer at this shithole so if they picked up the ammo, he could be nice and let them grab whatever else they could carry. A gesture of kindness to help ease them further into trusting him. It wasn’t a bad plan, and he could see where they were staying, in case they did decide to disappear one night.

“Fine. We get the ammo, you grab some of your things, we come home.”

“No, we grab the ammo, our shit, and ten pizzas to last however long you plan on keeping us holed up in here.” Michael corrected.

Ryan rolled his eyes and conceded with a wave of his own. “Fine.”

Pizza did sound kind of good; he was also getting tired of the processed meat. The constant bitching was more irritating than the 30 minutes it was going to take to go get a pizza. Gavin was up on his feet in a heartbeat and before Michael could get to it, snatched his leather jacket off of the couch to curl up in.

“Gavin, give it back!” Michael almost sounded actually annoyed, but Ryan knew him better than that, even after only a few days.

“I’m cold, Michael! You’ll be fine without it for a bit, won’t you?” Gavin flashed him a charming smile, wrapping the jacket tighter around himself.

“That’s not the point, idiot, you can’t just take it. Ask first.”

“Fine, can I please wear it, Michael?”

“Since you asked so nicely, no.” Michael answered flatly. “Try harder next time to be a considerate human being, and I might let you wear it for more than ten minutes.”

Ryan steeled himself for another petulant argument, but Gavin handed the leather jacket back without a word and followed him out of the house. It was mid-day and a bit chilly, and with the end of summer three weeks ago, fall was still in that stage of being hot one day and cold the next. Gavin stuck to Michael’s side like glue, as if he could suck the heat from him despite not actually wearing the jacket.

“Lead the way,” Ryan gestured broadly.

“Where’s the car?” Gavin furrowed his brows, crossed his arms to conserve heat, and looked around wildly. “You haven’t lost it, have you?”

Ryan shrugged. “Ditched it.”

“Wha—why would you do that?” Gavin squawked unhappily. “How are we supposed to get to Michael’s?”

“He probably ditched it because he was an asshole and stole it, and he expects us to walk, dumbass.” Michael growled. “It’s gonna take all _fucking_ day without one, but sure, let’s just fucking walk across town, grab all of our shit, and walk it back in broad daylight. Cops won’t suspect a fucking thing.”

“Do you ever have a mode that isn’t bitching?” Ryan couldn’t help but to grouch back. “We’ll steal another.”

“Good, because I’ve got a lot of shit.”

Ryan mentally added painkillers to the growing list of things to get. Maybe some more bandages. He was tempted to put another bullet into Michael’s other leg.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Michael and Gavin watched the Vagabond steal another car and Michael navigated to the apartment they rented from Jim, two hours had passed and Michael’s patience level for the day was at an all time low. That was before they rolled up to the apartment to find four men dragging his shit out onto the grounds of the complex. 

“What the fuck?” The car hadn’t even stopped moving before Michael launched out of the passenger seat and his hands were fisted in the nearest guy’s shirt, up at the neck so he could cut off his airway should he give a wrong answer. “What the _fuck_ are you doing with my shit!?”

Michael’s vision was slowly turning red as the guy stammered out that they had been told to clear out the apartment, something about rent not being paid, and Michael released him with a shove.

“Get your hands off my shit and fucking leave.” He snarled, hands fisting again at his sides in case they decided not to take his threats seriously. “Now!”

Two of the four immediately vacated, hopping into an already full truck and hauling ass out of the parking lot. The other two had been fumbling with a television inside and once Michael had growled out another string of threats, along with raised fists, they quickly followed suit. The inside of the apartment was a wreck—clothes were strewn everywhere, the couch was gone, his bed was gone, all of the guns in all of the hidey-holes of the apartment were missing, and the kitchen looked like it had been raided by monkeys.

Or Gavin. Michael wasn’t sure.

“Michael…” Gavin sounded pained as he stepped in after Michael and picked up a pair of shorts and two of Michael’s shirts on the way in.

But Michael didn’t feel pain. Anger was rolling up in waves and the longer he searched for weapons long since moved, the longer he looked at the remnants of some sort of life he had built with Gavin in the small, shitty apartment, the more the urge to blow something up festered. His skin was itching for violence, for something to take anger out on and his only options were Gavin (never, not for this), the Vagabond (nope, certain death was all that awaited that choice), or Jim.

Yes. Jim was the only option and Michael knew exactly where to find him.

Michael whipped around, chest heaving with the effort not to scream at anything that moved and brushed past Gavin roughly on his way to the door. But there, leaning against the frame was the Vagabond, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his own leather jacket.

“Who do we need to find?”

“Jim Flannigan. He’s down at Sulley’s.” Michael didn’t bother to say anything else, just waited for the Vagabond to nod, move out of his way, and watch as Michael stalked back to the car and sat impatiently in the passenger seat.

It took a minute, but Gavin had gathered up some remaining clothes and walked sullenly back to the car, shoving the mismatched outfits into the trunk of their stolen vehicle. As he sat silently behind Michael, the Vagabond snapped the trunk shut, hopped into the driver seat, and put the car into gear.

Michael had no recollection of giving directions to Sulley’s, and he probably didn’t. The strip club had a large enough draw for the underground that the Vagabond most likely had been there more than his fair share over the years for one reason or another, though Michael had never been unlucky enough to encounter him in the establishment.

The car came to a stop and Michael bailed out almost as quickly as he had at the apartment complex.

“Michael—wait for us!” He heard Gavin call out behind, but he kept his eyes in front of him, and his legs moving forward.

Smoke bit at his lungs as soon as he pulled open the heavy door, shoving past some intoxicated giggling girl and her friends. They yelled something drunkenly at him, but he ignored them and shoved another guy out of the way in his efforts to reach the far side of the club. The other side was for VIP and the seedier underground while the area Michael was making a bee-line for was for the regular bunch just there for a good time. Jim Flannigan was seated in his usual corner, grubby hands reaching for Grace, both stripper and hooker who had a hard-on for fat, desperate, cheating husbands. She was blowing kisses at him as she went through her routine, ass wiggling in a way Michael had no taste for.

He grabbed Jim by the back of the head and slammed his face into the stage with one hand, reaching for Jim’s beer bottle and smashing it next to his head with the other. Using a now sharp and deadly piece of glass, Michael jabbed it into the side of Jim’s neck.

Grace screamed and backed away in her ridiculous heels to find a bouncer no doubt, and the asswipe next to Jim only complained loudly about how Michael had ruined the show. Michael didn’t give two fucks. He’d deal with whoever he needed to to get his shit back.

“Where the fuck are my guns, Jim?”

“You fucking little shit!” Jim growled, arms struggling to lift his head, but Michael only jabbed the sharp glass harder into his neck, drawing blood. “Fuck, alright, alright!”

“Where the fuck are they?” Michael snarled again, leaning in closer. “You have five seconds Jim, before I send your head back to your wife.”

“You were late on the fucking payment Michael, and I’ve had enough of your shit! We had an agreement, you broke it. Your shit’s long gone.”

“Where. Are. My. Guns?” Michael jabbed so hard he was surprised the hole in Jim’s neck hadn’t completely drowned him in blood.

“Fuck you!” Jim gasped out, fought hard to get out of Michael’s grip, but Michael slammed his head back into the stage. “Sold ‘em! Sold ‘em to Ramsey!”

Fuck. “Geoff Ramsey?”

“Yeah. Have fun getting your shit back, Jones.” Jim grinned, teeth bloody and Michael snapped.

The edge of the bottle was lodged halfway inside of Jim’s neck and just as the blood was starting to spurt when a strong hand jerked Michael back by the elbow. Lips curling back to spit whatever expletives came to mind, the words died on his lips when he turned and saw the Vagabond was the one quickly pushing Michael back out of the strip club. The patrons all quickly made room, and Michael saw Gavin at the door, holding it open for their quiet escape.

No bouncers came after them, no sirens indicated any cops had been called, and if it wasn’t for the cooling body still lying half on the stage and the blood staining Michael’s brown leather jacket, he would have thought it had all been in his head. But it was simply chalked up to the fact that the club was underground anyways, and murder was a halfway normal occurrence. Not to mention the Vagabond had been sighted pulling Michael away, and as far as anyone knew, the Vagabond had no friends, worked with no one, and always left a trail of blood behind.

They probably all figured that Michael was dead now anyways, so why bother?

Not a word was spoken as Michael was led back to the car, practically thrown in, and the three of them had driven off a good two or three miles. Gavin was also oddly quiet, sitting dejectedly in the back, hands slowly rubbing up and down arms in an effort to generate more heat. Michael opened his mouth and closed it again. The rage from before was simmering down and he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore.

He glanced over to the Vagabond, watched with surprise when the man flicked on the heat and moved the vents to face Gavin’s direction. Michael blinked, looked in the rearview mirror to find Gavin looking back with wide eyes. The car made a turn and even more surprising was the large pizza slice sign over a red brick building.

The car pulled into a parking spot, the engine was turned off as the Vagabond turned to them.

“We eat, we plan, and we get your guns back another day.”

“They’ll be gone another day.” Michael muttered, flicking some of the still drying blood off of his jacket. “They belong to Ramsey now.”

“We eat, we plan.” The Vagabond reiterated. “There’s always time to get your guns back.”

Michael didn’t respond, and apparently it was enough of an agreement that their pseudo-partner pulled the keys from the ignition, got out of the car, and entered the pizza place as if murder hadn’t been committed mere minutes ago.

“Michael?” Gavin sounded small, afraid.

“What, Gav?” Michael sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“I’m sorry you lost your guns. We’ll get them back.”

“It’s not just the guns, Gav,” Michael admitted quietly, “I’m tired of losing to assholes.”

“We haven’t been winning much, have we boi?”

“Nah, we haven’t.”

“Do you reckon he likes us, Michael?” Gavin asked, unbuckling his own seatbelt. “He’s been nicer lately, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Michael agreed slowly. “Maybe he does. Depends on what kind of pizza he orders, the fuck.”

“I told him extra cheese, Michael, you heard me say it!”


	5. Chapter 5

The pizza was a reprieve from the hell that was meals for the past two weeks. The three sat awkwardly in the back of the establishment, Ryan with his mask still very much on. When the server politely asked him to take it off, Gavin was quick to assure her with a charming smile that he had a deformation and that it was for Ryan’s peace of mind to keep it on.

Her eyes flicked between the three of them—Michael, slumped dejectedly in his corner of the booth with an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, Ryan, with his arms crossed waiting patiently to order, and back at Gavin, who only smiled kindly at her and adjusted himself to the most flirtatious way of sitting Ryan had ever witnessed from a male.

Ryan was still a little surprised it had worked, but he’d also seen what the poor waitress looked like after dealing with Gavin, so he didn’t blame her for wanting to escape as well. During the wait, Michael bitched until Ryan promised that they would order extra for the next two days they’d be at the safehouse. After the blushing waitress returned with their food,  the meal was eaten in silence, everyone far too hungry to strike up conversation. Though Ryan did see the two of them struggling to not so obviously try and peek at what was underneath the mask when Ryan nudged it up so he could eat.

Ryan finished before the younger two, watching as they inhaled yet _another_ piece of pizza and settling back into a comfortable position. “So, what are your plans?”

Michael continued to chew, hands already grabbing at what had to be his fifth slice and Gavin paused for a second, lips twisting into what might have been a reply before he, too, stuffed another bite into his mouth. Ryan gave them a minute, waiting for an answer to come, but the two were stubborn and didn’t do anything more than shove more pizza down their throats.

Smart boys.

“Alright,” Ryan conceded, “Your landlord said he sold the guns to Ramsey. He the same Geoff Ramsey you were blubbering about when we first met?”

Michael swallowed. “The one who knows too much? That’s him. He’s too big a threat, we can’t get them back, not without a fight.”

“No.” Ryan agreed. “Not as we are now. We need guns, some explosives, and a bit more practice, but there’s never been someone too big a threat for me.”

“Yeah, well, wait until you meet the guy. He’s got a good crew and he’s too fucking smart to be ambushed somewhere.” Michael chomped down another bite.

“We don’t need to go after him directly, right?” Gavin rubbed his hands together, scattering crumbs across his plate. “We just need the guns back.”

“Exactly. And I’m sure if he’s as big a threat as you say, he’s got more than just _your_ guns in his storehouse.” Ryan adjusted his mask a bit to the left, already itching to do some damage. “Has he got any Sources?”

Gavin shifted uncomfortably, eyes sliding to Michael for guidance. Michael shrugged next to him and took another bite. “Well, we aren’t sure how many, but he does have at least one.”

“You two have an encounter?”

“Not directly. Heard stories, but no one knows anything.”

“Ramsey’s crew are assholes, and they have their shit together.” Michael mumbled. “He’s extremely lucky, it’s nearly impossible to get the jump on him. We’ve been edged out by his crew at least four times in the last six months.”

“Was he the one hunting you?”

Gavin shook his head, looking alarmed. “No not a chance. Even for me it’d be smegging impossible to get in his crew. He’s one of the few not actively looking for new Sources.”

“He must have a few, then.” That wasn’t a good sign. One Source was bad enough, but a man confident enough not to go collecting in this new era of the city was, as Michael put it, a man who had his shit together. They would need to be seriously packing to get in, grab the goods, and get out without taking too much damage.

“It doesn’t matter. Just let him have the guns, we’re better off just stealing from someone else.” Michael dismissed the conversation with a wave. “Even if you sped in there and sped back out, Gavin would have to be close enough to you to keep the link going.”

“What if I was on his back?” Gavin turned to Ryan with a gleam in his eye that was quicky shut down by Michael.

“You’re an idiot.”

“What? Why, Michael? I could just hold on and it would be fine!”

“That’s risking you, dumbass, something you absolutely had a problem with before we got our asses handed to us.” Michael pushed his plate away, chin going back to resting on his hand. “So what makes you change your mind all of a sudden?”

Ryan watched the youngest of them carefully. Gavin sat up ramrod straight, chest puffing out slightly to deny, argue something, but it slumped back slowly, cautiously. Their Source was hiding something, and he didn’t like that. Neither, apparently, did Michael.

“It’s not as if I’m trying to put myself in danger! We need your guns back, don’t we, Michael? So if we need me to get them back, then I’ll do my part.” Gavin crossed his arms stubbornly.

Michael eyed him carefully for a moment, considering, “We aren’t ready. Maybe you can argue about being a dumbass in the six months it takes for us to even work as a team, but until then why don’t you think of a plan that doesn’t involve throwing yourself to the wolves?”

Gavin opened his mouth once more to argue, but again, shut himself down and looked away to grin and wave at the waitress as she passed by. Michael only rolled his eyes and went back to pouting in his corner of the booth. Ryan only observed the two of them avoid talking to one

another for a few minutes before the waitress came back with the pizza to go. Ryan stood, left a  small wad of cash on the table, and the pair followed him out of the establishment, pizza boxes in hand.

Loading back into the car in utter silence, Ryan took a route different from the one they had taken to get to the pizza shop. He drove slow, took his time on residential roads and every once in a while flicked his eyes over to Michael, still sulking, and Gavin, far too quiet and near scowling out the window.

He merged to the right without blinkering, swerved in front of a white mini-van, and cut off some guy wanting to make a left turn on a green light so he could cut across a street and down another.

“What the fuck?” Michael protested, grabbing at the bar above the window to stabilize himself.

Gavin was holding onto the pizza and was not so lucky, body lifting across the backseat to try and save the pizza from being thrown from his hands.

Ryan didn’t answer for two blocks, rolling to a stop in front of a nice looking house with a very steep driveway. The house was unimportant, despite the hopeful look Gavin sent him, but instead Ryan pointed to across the four lane street perpendicular to them. It was a strip mall, pretty high end and very busy.

“That’s where we’re going to hit tomorrow. There’s a jewelry store with a specialty in engagement rings. We hit that, and we’ll have enough to buy an arsenal to get your guns back.”

“A jewelry store? I didn’t think that was your style.” Michael grimaced. “Aren’t you more of an assassination type?”

Ryan shrugged. “Jobs are slow at the moment.”

“Do you have a plan?” Gavin asked, gazing longingly at the house they were parked in front of. “Are you going to use your powers?”

“I was thinking more of a joint effort. We need the practice.”

“Okay,” Michael started, adjusting himself in his seat so he could see both of them at the same time, “but Gavin can only link to one of us at a time. So unless you want a clusterfuck, we better get it sorted out now.”

“Actually, we haven’t tried it yet but I’ve been meaning… to…” Gavin trailed off, shrinking back at their combined looks, “well, it’s just that we’ve never tried, but I think as long as I have enough, I should be able to link with both of you.”

There was a beat of silence and Gavin just looked back out at the house again, face drawn.

“What the fuck, Gavin?” Michael shook his head and muttered something unintelligible before speaking up again. “Is there anything else you think you can do and never bothered to tell me? Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” He shouted loudly enough that the small space rang with his accusation, and Gavin turned as if stung.

“Michael, we were still getting the link down and I’ve been knackered for ages, Michael, so it wasn’t like we could try it.” Gavin argued. “And you’ve been so bloody minged it’s hard to bring up a new idea.”

“All of our shit is gone! You want me to be all sunshine and rainbows, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said, Michael.”

“That’s the fucking problem! You just expect me to understand when you just throw something out there. I can’t read your fucking mind Gavin, so fucking talk to me!”

“I’m trying!” Gavin took in breath. “If you’ll just listen a moment, I’ll tell you.”

“Get on with it then. Let’s hear this brand new idea that you’ve apparently had for days and never bothered to tell your _partners_.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. If the argument went full circle he was just going to steal all of the pizza they’d just ordered and hide it in the basement. Naughty children didn’t deserve nice dinners.

“I can feel both of you pulling at me, so I’m sure I could hold a link. It isn’t hard to start one and it isn’t taxing to just hold it, so as long as we communicate—“ a snort from Michael interrupted Gavin’s explanation, and Ryan could see the kid clenching and unclenching his fists. Gavin carefully continued, “—as long as you don’t take too much, it should be fine.”

“Gavin, you can barely function after a link, what makes you think you could support both of us?” Michael argued, seemingly just to be contrary.

“That’s only because we’ve been practicing every day. If we took a day or two off, I could recover enough energy and I’d have enough, easy!”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Surprising, coming from the very person who seemed displeased at having to link with Ryan every day, but a pleasant surprise. Ryan was starting to understand how the two had survived these past months with so little to work off of. They were childish about every argument, every joke, just about everything in general, but they were resourceful and clever.

“You’re sure you can do it?” Ryan gave Gavin a flat stare, watching for any sign of a lie.

“Well,” Gavin offered a sheepish smile, “we haven’t tried it.”

It was true, and there wasn’t likely to be another way to find out. Michael shook his head and muttered something rude, but Gavin didn’t bother to give into Michael’s childishness for once, and Ryan threw the car back into gear. They were quiet the entire way back and it was a relief after the sulk fest that was lunch and the on and off bickering that had been strewn throughout the whole day.

Once safely back inside the house, the pizza was thrown into the fridge, and the three sat back down to have another chat about Gavin’s new idea. They hadn’t used up any of his energy since the day before so it should be possible to practice a three way link if he felt comfortable. The way Michael was continuing to ignore Gavin told Ryan that even if he wanted to push for it, the bitching involved wouldn’t be worth it.

Michael had gotten far too worked up today, not that Ryan blamed him. The loss of home was something Ryan had been recently familiar with and the unpleasant need for retribution and blood was hard to get over. It would be better to let Gavin recover more of his energy anyway, so he let his reluctant partners take up their own corners of the small house and settled in on the couch. Michael took to the bedroom, most likely to continue to sulk in bed and Gavin decided to lock himself in the bathroom. Ryan couldn’t hear any water running, so he wasn’t sure what Gavin was doing in there, but decided to pay it no mind. The boys at this point had gained the minimal trust needed to let them to their own devices for periods of time.

His mask was itching, and not being able to take it off for more than the twenty minutes it took to take a shower was grating on him. He couldn’t risk his identity and betrayal, although he really doubted the two were capable of figuring out who he was with the face paint, but the risk was still there- one he wasn’t willing to take.

The jewelry store heist would have to wait a few days as they needed to sort out this line business before getting greedy. Ryan’s wallet wasn’t able to hold up for much longer, though. They needed money, and badly. Ryan hadn’t heard anything from Hector, and Ryan had never had so much trouble finding a job. He thought about paying another visit, just in case Hector had let the Vagabond’s need slip his mind, but Hector had never failed him before.

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he had leaned back on the couch and the next thing he knew there were voices above him. One giggled, voice high and at a pitch Ryan usually heard birds tweet at. The other snickered, lower, but just as irritating.

“Does this count as skull fucking?”

More snickering and Ryan felt something cold poke at his right eye. His left arm swung immediately up and grabbed at the leather of what was apparently Michael’s jacket and tugged, flipping their positions. Michael’s back hit the couch and Ryan’s elbow was across his throat, pushing down hard.

Michael gurgled a moment, going still with wide eyes. Something fell to the floor with a soft thunk and flicking narrowed eyes at Michael’s arm hanging off the edge of the couch, Ryan caught sight of the dark pink of a cold hotdog on the hardwood. Gavin was behind the armrest Michael’s head was currently pressed up against, nervous and fearful, hands fidgeting as he waited to see what Ryan would do. 

It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds to realize that he had fallen asleep. The two idiots had taken full advantage of that, but hadn’t looked under his mask. Ryan took another second, took a breath to calm his adrenaline boosted heart rate and pressed harder into Michael’s throat before pulling back.

No words were needed. The message was received. While Michael slowly pulled himself up to sit, Gavin kicked the uncooked hotdog underneath the couch- like a heathen- and put on his best smile.

“We’re ready to try a three-way!” He announced, not sorry in the least for the connotations behind the sentence, and with little response, as Ryan had slowly become accustomed to the constant sexual innuendos.

“Breakfast first.” Ryan turned and made his way to the kitchen. He rolled his shoulder, the ache most likely a result of sleeping on it wrong.

“We’ve eaten already.” Michael informed him from his place on the couch. “You were taking your sweetass time waking up. Which is weird, cause you were asleep before either of us.”

Ryan decided to pointedly ignore the blunder, throwing two slices of pizza onto a paper plate and slamming the microwave door shut harder than necessary.

“You’re not getting sick, are you boss?” Gavin almost sounded… worried about him, the idiot.

Ryan froze and a loud series of beeps informed him that his pizza was ready for eating. Deciding to ignore that as well, he merely took his breakfast out, pushed his mask up to his nose, and took a bite big enough to fit half a slice into his mouth. His back was facing the two so he left the mask lifted. Ryan wasn’t one to be chatty, but mornings often found the three of them quiet and pensive.

The boys usually kept to themselves most of the time, whispering to each other from time to time if they didn’t want to bother him, throwing things back and forth to each other if they did.

Ryan let the silence drag for the fifteen minutes it took him to enjoy a silent breakfast, then he rejoined the other two in the living room, taking up a position against the front door.

Michael eyed him as he moved, still cautious, but Gavin had decided to sit up against the small heater vent opposite of the door.

“Well, boss, are we a go for practice?” Michael asked lazily, despite the tense posture. 

Ryan twitched again. He wasn’t sure what their game was, but it was better than a lot of other things they had been calling him. They didn’t have a name to go off of, and The Vagabond didn’t exactly roll off of the tongue. Oscar Meyer had been a favorite as of recent. The pizza had probably retired that annoyance.

Ryan had never bothered to correct them.

“Are you recovered enough?” He kept his voice flat, watching Gavin carefully.

Gavin shrugged. “Enough to practice holding the line for both of you.” He didn’t seem to be lying.

“You’ve got what, two days until you’re good to go for the robbery?” Michael asked, relaxing a bit. “We could probably get by on that.”

“It depends. If this works, we might want to wait three. Feeding both of you will take a lot out of me.” Gavin pursed his lips a moment. “You can start pulling now.”

Ryan hadn’t quite been conscious of how he was doing it, sometimes he was aware he was tugging at the line, whether Gavin was willing or not, but most times he felt the strange warmth travelling up his legs first. Once he was aware, however, it was a delicate trial and error of pulling either too fast or too slow.

Line established, Ryan turned his attention to Michael, who only had Gavin in his sights. His brown eyes were scanning for any signs of stress, the slightest shake in the Brit’s hands or the smallest of scrunches in his brow. But the line remained stable and Gavin showed no evidence that he was under duress.

“I’ve got both of you, I can feel it.” Gavin’s voice did something wobbly, excited, but anxiety was clearly filtering through despite the bravado. “You should try and use your powers.”

“You’re sure?” Ryan asked before Michael could get a word out. He was aware of the heated gaze on him but paid it no heed. “We shouldn’t tax you too much.”

“Well we’ve got to find out, right?” A wobbly smile was offered and it was clear Gavin was evading Michael’s stare. “I can handle it.”

“Gavin—”

“I can cut the line if it’s too much.” Gavin cut in and Michael closed his mouth, opened it again with what looked like something berating behind his lips, and then sighed. “It’ll be fine, Michael.”

“Don’t fuck up.” Michael warned and leaned in, elbows resting on his knees.

Gavin’s lips only pulled back into a grin. “I won’t bollocks it. Promise.”

Ryan waited about thirty seconds before tugging harder at the line. From the look Gavin shot Michael, he had yet to do anything; that was quickly remedied, however, with a small exclamation of surprise. Michael jumped at the sound, moving to lean even further forward but stopped himself short when Gavin began to slowly rise from the floor.

“ _Michael!_ You’re going to ruin my concentration!”

“Deal with it.” Michael smirked, pleased.

Well, with Michael having success Ryan took a few steps forward. The whoosh of air around him was one of the only tells that he was moving faster than anything else. Nothing moved in slow motion, time didn’t freeze as he zoomed about; it was just a massive rush of air and the slight feeling of vertigo after he stopped moving.

Now on the opposite side of the room, Ryan stood still and stopped pulling on the line. Gavin dropping abruptly to the floor with a terrified squawk told Ryan that Michael had done the same.

“You okay?” Ryan offered a hand to the Source, now hissing and rubbing at his hip where he’d landed on it.

“Top. Worked bloody well, dinnit?” Gavin looked wildly between the two of them, full rows of gleaming teeth on display. “I feel fine!”

“Okay, but we only used it for like three seconds. How are you going to last for like twenty minutes?” Michael countered, leaning back and crossing his arms, knee bouncing in agitation. “We can just use normal people tactics and it’ll work just fine. There’s no reason to risk you.”

“We need to practice working together Michael.” Gavin argued. “And I doubt anyone else has had this idea.”

“Shut up! You’re definitely not the first to think of this, you idiot. I’m sure there are crews out there stupid enough to link to multiple people.”

“Either way, it worked.” Ryan cut in. “How much energy did you lose?”

Gavin frowned, thought about it a moment, and then fumbled with his answer. “It’s—I mean, not _that much_. I could definitely… we could use it.”

Michael dragged two hands down in face to drown out the frustrated noise that made its way out of him. Ryan wasn’t at all confident in the answer either. If it was too much of a strain then there was no point in using it. One at a time would be fine as long as they communicated, although it would most likely be messy anyways, judging by the way the two bickered back and forth to get a solid plan going.

Why was he ever worried about the two turning on him? They’d end up arguing over how to kill him before even approaching him, and would be stuck for days like that, likely.

“We’ll see. I’m going to go case the place, you two stay.” Ryan narrowed his eyes at the dumbfounded expressions. While it was true that yesterday he hadn’t been willing to walk more than five feet away from the two of them, he was going to have to put a little more trust in them before attempting a robbery that could go badly quickly. “I expect you _right_ where I left you.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.”

“Right, boss!”

God, he was starting to hate that nickname. ‘Babysitter’ was more accurate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ray felt the draw slow, the line weaken, and eventually it broke. Taking in a deep breath to stave off the lightheadedness, he braced himself with a hand against the kitchen table, and blinked away the blur in his vision. As always, Jack was a comforting presence at his side, a hand anchored on his shoulder to steady him and a soothing voice to calm him after a long draw.

Just from taking a quick glance at his Inheritor, he could tell Geoff’s vision had been a bad one. The man was trembling; he was slumped over the kitchen table and the gleam of sweat on his brow spoke volumes.

It had been a long time since Geoff had drawn so much from Ray at once, and it was alarming to say the least. Flashes of the future were normal; they had a ritual on when to peek and how to make plans around the knowledge gained. Futures this intense usually required follow-up glimpses though, and Ray always dreaded the recovery process. The kickbacks of premonition were some of the worst, and while it took a lot out of him, it took far more from Geoff.

“Sit, Ray, c’mon.” Jack urged, pressing lightly at his shoulder to guide him into the chair he had previously ignored. “I’ll get some aspirin, just sit before you fall over, alright?”

 _“Fuck.”_ Geoff gasped out at last, shaking hands coming to his face. “This isn’t good.”

Ray sat heavy in his seat, but dragged the pad of paper and pen waiting for them in the middle of the table over to him. “What did you see?”

Jack seemed appeased, hovered for another moment before he slid his hand off of Ray’s shoulder and quickly walked around the table to rummage through the medicine cabinet next to the spices further into the kitchen. Geoff shook his head a moment, breath stuttering as it was inhaled, but smooth as butter on the exhale.

“Three of them, one Source, two Inheritors,” Geoff spoke lowly and paused for a moment when Jack nudged at him and dropped four pills into his still trembling hands. A glass of water was already on the table, and with one swift motion, the drugs were in his mouth and a gulp of water quickly trailed after them. “I know one of them. The Vagabond.”

Jack was just reaching over to hand Ray his own fistful of painkillers, and froze at the name. For a beat Ray could see him processing the information, then he continued his reach, dropping the pills into Ray’s waiting hand.

Ray also recognized the name. While he hadn’t been in the murder game as long as his partners, one didn’t get paid to kill without hearing of the Vagabond. The guy was bad news and didn’t play well with others, and he was a creepy fucker. Ray could remember the whispers in bars about stories, but he’d never been particularly interested in the gruesome tales. He knew enough not to fuck with the guy in a skull mask, however.

Ray wrote it down, eyes squinting behind his glasses to make sure he’d spelled the name correctly. “You saw the Vagabond?” He made sure to keep his voice even, though his body rebelled even at that.

“Yeah,” Geoff took another gulp and leaned back, eyes still distant as he recalled the vision, “and two kids. Maybe your age, maybe younger.”

“Shit, what was he doing to the kids?” Ray could feel eyes on him as Jack said it, baritone voice not hiding any of the emotion surging through. He didn’t know why Jack was worried, he’d been young when he started sniping, and the Vagabond doing cruel things to people his age wasn’t anything to write home about. Worse crimes happened to younger, far more innocent souls.

“I think they’re working together. No, I _know_ they’re working together.” Geoff tapped at his glass. “Fuck, and I think _we’re_ working together.”

Ray froze halfway through the word _together_ on the pad of paper and looked sharply up at his boss. “What?”

“I need a drink. _Christ_ ,” Geoff ran a still trembling hand over his mustache and short beard, “it went fast this time. There was a lot, but from what I could make sense of it looks like we may be extending the crew. The Corpirate is still a big threat; it’s been more of the same thing I’ve been seeing for the past five months. He’s still going to hunt Sources, build up his ranks so he can wipe us out.”

Ray flipped the page over on the notepad, continuing his notes on the second page. The headache they all knew was going to hit was finally rising to the surface. He shivered a bit and ignored the concerned look Geoff sent him. “Same scene or new scene?”

“Same.” Geoff answered instantly. “Same fucking stupid scene and I can quote it word for word now.”

“Okay, and the only other thing you saw was the Vagabond and those kids?” Jack took his own seat, fingers threaded together. “Male?”

“Yeah. One was British.”

“The fuck?” Ray muttered and passed the notepad when the ache in his head flared and the words started to blur on the page. Jack didn’t question it, and quickly started up where he left off.

“You remember anything else about them? You said one of them was a Source. You know which one?” Ray had a hand pressed to his head, and he missed the look that Jack sent at him while he asked Geoff more follow-up questions.

“Gavin.” Geoff shook his head. “I have no idea which one is which, but the one named Gavin is the Source.”

“Okay, anything else?”

Geoff flicked his attention to Jack, and Ray recognized the internal conversation between them. They would talk about something later, behind his back; they did it often after a vision. Something Geoff saw had been intimate. Maybe they didn’t want to worry him, but Ray had a sickening feeling it involved him in a not-so-positive way. Call it a hunch, and the fact that they shared just about everything else with him.

“I think we’re going to work with them soon. I was offering them a deal.”

The thought of taking in another Source turned Ray’s blood to ice. Geoff and Jack had never shown interest in trying to expand their operation that way and Ray preferred that. Trusting another Source to do what he did, to manage both Jack and Geoff’s needs, to have eyes always out for any possible incoming threat and eliminate said threat didn’t seem to be possible in his mind.

No one could do what Ray could do. Anyone claiming they could was only in it for the protection, and like hell Ray would jeopardize what he had worked so hard to help build up just so some poor sap could feel safe. _Fuck_ them.

“What kind of deal?” Ray demanded, keeping his voice calm. There was no need for them to realize he was getting so worked up over a vision.

“Dunno, couldn’t hear it over the overlay.” Geoff heaved a sigh. “I hate intense ones; they never play out linear and clear—always a fucking acid trip I have to make sense of.”

“Alright, anything else we should jot down?” Jack asked, looking like he wanted to shove them both in bed and make them sleep for a day or two.

“No, but I want to try and delve deeper. Ray, you good with that?”

Ray shrugged, “Maybe tomorrow. You’re going to be fucked for a while.”

Geoff grimaced and conceded a sad noise of agreement. “So are you.”

“You want me to get you anything, or are you going to try and sleep it off?” Jack offered, getting back to his feet to take the half empty glass in front of Geoff to the sink. “Blankets?”

“Nah, I’m good. Might go up to the perch for a bit, get some air.”

Ray wanted quiet, wanted to bite into the bitterness settling in at even potentially dragging another Source into the small circle he so carefully guarded.

He needed a plan, some sort of way to convince Geoff and Jack to leave the psychopath and his two cronies the hell alone, and not to entertain the usually infallible visions. It wasn’t worth it to bring others into the fold, damn it. Too many people made too many gaps, too much possibility for betrayal and death and _fuck_ he was totally _not_ freaking about this.

_Get it together, Ray._

“Hey, I think you should stick close for a bit.” Ray pointedly did not look back, focused instead on pushing the nausea starting to build up back down. “It’s been awhile since one of these went down.”

“It’s fine.” Ray stood, managing to not wobble despite the pain flaring up in his head. “He didn’t even take half of what I have.”

“That’s not what he meant—” Geoff argued, winced and held the palm of his hand to his temple. “Just- let Jack take care you. He’s just going to bitch at me until you let him.”

At that, Ray turned to Jack.

Geoff wasn’t wrong. Jack was meticulous with aftercare, keeping sharp eyes out for any sign of pain, illness, or otherwise. He was never happy until the two of them were safe and sound, usually asleep. The guy was the biggest mother hen Ray knew.

“I just want some air. I’ll be careful coming down the ladder, and I’ll only stay out for an hour, okay?”

The phases of frustration, worry, and finally defeat played out on Jack’s face before he finally waved him off with a sigh. “An hour, that’s it. We also need to discuss next week’s plans.”

Ray didn’t bother to reply, just grabbed his pink sniper rifle off the back of the couch in the living room, and expertly climbed the homemade ladder leading up to what they affectionately called ‘Ray’s perch’. The house was spacious and bright with skylights in just about every room, and the roof was a large expanse of flat surfaces for Ray to climb around on to practice aiming or just to breathe and have his own space.

It was a sanctuary for him and calmed his need to keep eyes out on any possible threats approaching was met.

Just before closing the glass hatch door, he caught Geoff’s soft voice and paused.

“I saw it again.”

Ray’s brow furrowed. _What?_

“I know. But it’s not like we can bring it up. What’s he going to say to that, Geoff?” Jack sounded frustrated, and they were definitely talking about him.

“I _know_ , but I don’t know how long I can just ignore it. And I didn’t want to say anything with him here, but I saw something else, too.”

What the fuck did that mean? His heart hammered, waiting.

There was a period of silence and Ray worried that they might have noticed he was listening in or maybe they had moved into another room, but Jack’s voice filtered in, soft and breathless.

“You can’t mean…?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“What the _fuck,_ Geoff?”

“Yeah, Jack, I agree. What the fuck?”

“We’re _fucked_.”

“ _Completely_ fucked.”

He couldn’t decide if they sounded horrified or excited, and he wasn’t about to ask.

There was a clink—the two had probably toasted to the unknown thing—and there was nothing more said, so Ray closed the hatch as quietly as he could, and tried not to vomit all over the rooftop.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You stick right next me, got it?” Michael threw the hood of Gavin’s black hoodie up over his head roughly. “We stick together no matter what.”

“Michael, it’ll be _fine_!” Gavin pushed at the hands still pulling down at his hood. “We’ve practiced, he’s cased it—it’ll be an easy job.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve never actually trusted him to have our backs before.” Michael threw up his own hood, shoving dark sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose quickly after. “Just don’t fuck up.”

“You always say that!” Gavin bit back the urge to stick his tongue out. “But it’s not always me. You’ve bloody well bollocksed plenty of things.”

“And I always got us back out, right?” Michael once more pulled at Gavin’s hood and he let out an indignant squawk. “Team Nice Dynamite, bitches!”

Adjusting his hood to a more comfortable position, he smiled back at his faithful partner in crime. “Team Nice Dynamite.”

Michael handed him his own shades, pulling a face as soon as Gavin put them on. It was a bit rude, to be honest.

“What?”

“There’s no way they won’t recognize that nose. It’s practically famous by itself.”

Embarrassment flooded his system and Gavin huffed, turning away. “Shut up, Michael!”

Michael only laughed, knocked his shoulder and made his way out of the bedroom. Gavin rubbed furiously at his nose as if it would diminish magically, adjusted the sunglasses, took a shaky breath, and strutted out. They looked ridiculous in black sweatpants that were too long and rolled halfway up their calves to keep from tripping over them, thick black hoodies—also too big, but the bagginess would help to hide how heavy or thin they were—and the sunglasses that only half-hid their faces.

The Vagabond was in his usual getup—the leather jacket, jeans, and of course the freaky skull mask that hadn’t exactly lost it’s creepiness in the weeks they had known the man. Well, know was a strong word. More like Gavin had become accustomed to his presence, the weird mood swings from time to time, and some of his music preferences based off of the classic rock songs he tended to hum to himself when making food.

The man stood at the door, two guns in hand and another strapped across his back. Michael approached, hand out and ready to accept a gun. The Vagabond didn’t move, fingers curled tightly around the firearms.

“Look, it’s not very threatening if only one of us has guns. They might get an idea to make a run for it or something.”

“Who says any will be left alive?”

Gavin grimaced. The thought of just blowing the brains out of innocent people just trying to do their jobs really left a sour taste in his mouth. “We’re not killing anyone, are we?”

Michael glanced back at him, frown only growing deeper when he turned back to face the Vagabond. “Look, I know it’s kind of your MO to massacre everyone or whatever, but you’ve got us to think about now. We can’t have every cop in the city on our asses and risk Gavin getting shot or something.”

Gavin nodded vehemently. “It’s true, I would get shot.”

“But we’re also definitely not giving him a gun. He’ll shoot himself with it. So just give me one, we’ll let Gavin be in charge of the goods, and you can call the shots or whatever the whole time.”

“Michael!” He wouldn’t _shoot himself_ with it. Might accidentally shoot something with it, sure, but he was capable enough to handle it safely around people.

“Shut up, you know it’s true. Remember that time we got a jump on that cop?”

Heh. That had been pretty funny to see Michael’s shocked and enraged face when he had “accidentally” shot the cop in the leg. It had been even funnier to watch Michael try to teach him how to use a gun for three weeks before giving up. Not that Michael knew that he had been paying close attention, but Michael still didn’t know a lot of things.

“Exactly, so shut up and handle the jewels. Or you’ll be handling my family jewels,” Michael leered at Gavin with a laugh before he turned back to the Vagabond, hand outstretched once more. “I know how to handle a gun and I’ll watch your back.”

Gavin could see the hesitation, understanding it as well. It would be the first time they were trusted with a weapon, and he was almost nervous that Michael might try something as well. They had no plans to betray the guy—at least in the near future.

He had been surprisingly good to them and despite the crippling boredom, they had it pretty good. Michael didn’t have to risk them with random jobs they managed to pick up to make a living, they didn’t have to watch their back for different gangs who either wanted to protect territory or were hunting them because they were a known Source and Inheritor duo, and it was kind of fun to see how much the big bad Vagabond had changed and potentially how much more he could change in the future.

They were growing on him, Gavin could tell.

The moment of hesitation was over. The Vagabond sighed, and Michael was handed the small handgun in his left hand. He was also given six bullets to put in the chamber.

“Rule number one.” Came the gruff response.

“You’re the boss, we know.” Gavin caught Michael rolling his eyes and let a small grin slip. “We sat and stayed like good little dogs just like we said, didn’t we? Have a little faith, _Je-_ sus.”

“Get in the car.”

An order after they made a point was a sign of defeat; he couldn’t refute their arguments most of the time. And they _had_ been on their best behavior the last couple of days. They sat patiently through the explanation of the layout of the store, the planned exits, the contingency plans should things go horribly wrong—which they promised it wouldn’t because they were going to follow every order ‘to a T’.

Michael really, really wanted his guns back, and he’d deal with this if it meant he’d get them.

And Gavin understood. He missed having a cell phone and enjoying the freedom that came with it. Michael’s guns—his explosives, mainly—were his freedom. Something in his soul yearned to just blow things up, to ruin something and feel _alive_. Michael had shared that bit of information the night they sent a message to the gang Michael had been a part of. It had been beautiful, in a way, to watch Michael set his soul free as the compound had been flattened to next to nothing.

The ride was quiet to the jewelry store— _Gregory Hanes’ Fine Jewel Craft_ —a bit long for Gavin’s taste, but it did sound very uptown. The Vagabond drove as usual, and they parked behind the store in the alley that ran down the back of the entire strip mall for supply trucks. The alley was abandoned even in broad daylight, which was perfect. It was early afternoon, and while the inside of the strip mall was bustling, it still wasn’t at its peak yet. There weren’t many restaurants, so there wasn’t really a rush of people grabbing lunch or an early dinner. It was also a Wednesday, and there was less traffic than usual anyhow due to the midweek lull.

The signal was given, guns were checked and rechecked, and then they approached the locked back door. The metal door was equipped with a simple lock, which was worrisome. If the owners didn’t put much into the back door there was likely a bigger security system put into place inside. Gavin really wished he had been there to help case the place; not knowing what was behind the doors was nerve wracking.

The Vagabond kicked the door knob off with a single strike and Michael shifted his weight next to Gavin, readjusted his grip on the gun, and followed their “boss” inside.

An alarm started to blare immediately as they entered, and his nerves kicked into overdrive. Team Nice Dynamite had never been so bold to trip an alarm first thing. They had outwitted cops before, but there was going to be loads of time for the cops to arrive before they were done collecting the goods.

The first pull on his line startled Gavin. He knew what to expect, they would be utilizing both Inheritor’s power, but it was far sooner than anticipated. It was just the Vagabond, and allowed the energy to flow; the man was gone the instant he did.

The store wasn’t very big, but it didn’t need to be with product so tiny and valuable. A smaller store was less likely to be hit, and it allowed for more security. It had no advantages with super speed and gravity manipulation, however, and the four people left in the store—three employees and what looked to be some poor sap trying to buy his significant other a very gaudy piece, going by the necklace left on the glass countertop by one of the clerks—were shoved to the ground before they knew what hit them. The Vagabond had a gun trained on a lady clerk closest to the front door. She had short brown hair, wore a fancy scarf, and by the looks of her lavish outfit, had great salesmanship.

“Lock this.” He ordered and jerked his gun to reiterate the command.

“Keys.” She stammered out slowly, shaky breaths and hands betraying the calm she tried desperately to hold on to. Poor bird, to have to deal with the lot of them pushing her down and then ordering her back up. Gavin almost stepped forward to offer a hand but another pull on his line from Michael halted the kind gesture.

Getting both lines up and running took a lot more concentration now that they weren’t just at home. With having two people to look out for and four more to keep from doing anything stupid, it was a struggle to get Michael the energy he needed and already the draw from both was straining.

“Are they on you or someone else?” the Vagabond asked calmly.

“Emily has them.” She responded loudly, struggling to be heard over the still blaring alarm. “I can go—”

“No. We’ll have Emily go do it.”

Gavin glanced over to the new clerk standing up and nearly lost his hold on Michael’s line; she was stick thin, young with big doe eyes, and Gavin wasn’t sure how someone could have so much hair and still have it wave so perfectly like that. She was the type that spent hours in front of the mirror in the morning, he was sure. Michael nudged him irritably, and the tips of his ears burned from embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to get caught staring.

The Vagabond just waited patiently for Emily to walk over, dig through her pocket for the keys, and proceed to lock the front door. A glance out the window revealed some bystanders looking in from afar, all with cell phones to their ears. They didn’t have much time.

“Back on the ground, ten feet apart.”

Emily moved and sat, tiny legs curled under her because of the black skirt and Gavin snapped his attention away from her and back to Michael just in time to watch him shoot all four glass cases. The guy stuck next to them flinched and let out a small shout of surprise. Michael then waved his left hand and both glass and jewelry lifted slowly into the air.

“Go get it, stupid. You have the bag.” Michael looked expectantly at him and Gavin blinked a moment, looked down at bare hands, and looked back up.

Shite. He’d forgotten the bag completely.

“Are you fucking kidding me Ga—” Michael snapped his mouth shut. “You had _one_ _job_!”

“I know, but it’s fine! I’ll just shove it in my pockets!”

The Vagabond let out a snarl, and Gavin knew he’d royally screwed up; he jumped quickly to action, grabbing both the goods and the glass around it in an effort to save time and judging by the sharp pains through the gloves they had nicked him pretty badly. He watched carefully for any blood, apologized briefly to the man cowering next to him as he passed, and scooped the rest out of the air and into his arms.

He’d dropped the Vagabond’s line in the process and Michael’s nearly slipped as well when sirens joined the continuous screaming of the alarm.

“Fuck, cops are here already!” Michael warned.

“I’ve got everything!” Gavin announced. “Let’s go, lads!”

Michael shook his head, flipped off the guy Gavin nearly tripped over on his way back to Michael’s side, and moved to go back through the back door—

Where two cops had just ducked in from, guns drawn.

“Uh, we’ve got a problem!” Michael called and fired his remaining two shots at the officers. “Cops are coming in!”

“You didn’t close the door?!” The Vagabond snarled and fired six shots through the window.

“You kicked it in!” Michael ducked behind the counter and ignored the shouted warning from the cops. “What was the point if we couldn’t relock it anyway?!”

It was a fair point. The door was rubbish now with now with no knob.

“Shut up and move! We go through the front. White van, row three, six cars in!” the Vagabond ordered, moved so he could see the small hallway they originally came in and fired. The cops waited a beat and returned fire. Two of the three women shrieked at the danger and moved to duck behind some fairly stable structures.

Gavin ducked as a stray shot ricocheted, stepped on the man’s hand, and lost three diamonds from the armful he kept tucked into his chest. The man just recoiled about six feet further into the store. With a sheepish grin, he turned to Michael, muttering curses about not enough ammo and stupid _fucking_ assholes in masks who couldn’t lead a fucking _parade_.

“Michael, do that thing!” Gavin nudged him with an elbow.

Michael turned back, lips parting to spit out more curses, but he paused. “You want me to kill the cops?”

Gavin shrugged. “Could keep them pinned until we get out the front.”

One of the officers cried out in pain as another cop car rolled up, and two more officers joined the fray from the front.  They were shooting in through the window the Vagabond had shot out earlier for them to escape out of, pinning the thieves inside. The front was now more dangerous than the back,  and Gavin cursed. The Vagabond returned fire out the window, before ducking around a display of sunglasses close to both Michael and Gavin.

He gestured for them to do something but Gavin was distracted by the golden frames hanging crooked in the display. They were beautifully crafted and solid gold judging by the price tag hanging off the right temple. He wanted them. He _really_ wanted them.

Michael drawing heavily from him snapped his attention back to the situation at hand. The speed of the draw blurred his vision a bit and there was a pressure building in his head. Another cry from down the hallway, this time one of surprise instead of pain had Gavin glancing up carefully over the counter they were crouched behind. He could see the two cops struggling against some unknown force on the ground.

“Go!” The Vagabond snarled, fired out the window two more times, then grabbed at Gavin by the arm of his hoodie.

Gavin squeaked as he was pulled to his feet. The display case was less than two feet away and he reached out for it but was quickly shoved forward and towards the back door. More shots came from the window and through the alarm he managed to catch only a couple of words about backup and going around back.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Michael stepped on each of the cops as they passed them to get out the open back door.

Gavin did his best to avoid stepping on them, but the Vagabond’s hand was still curled into the sleeve of his hoodie, pushing him forward with equal carelessness. Gavin nearly tripped over a leg, but he managed to stumble, losing a few more precious stones and a very nice necklace in the process. Another quick shove, and they were out the back and six feet from the car. Michael let them through but stayed behind, hands out and eyes narrowed on the still struggling officers writhing on the floor.

Halfway to the car Gavin remembered that he’d lost his link with the Vagabond and reinstated it as quickly as he could without jeopardizing his link with Michael. The process was a challenge mentally and he had to stop completely in his tracks in order to do it. The pause in movement had created an opening for one of the new cops to reach them around back and start firing again.

A shove had Gavin face first into the window of the passenger seat and he lost more loot to the concrete. Recovering quickly and blinking his vision back to normal, he struggled to open the door a moment, threw the jewels in his arms into the back seat, and swung wildly around to catch sight of the Vagabond shooting down the alley and Michael backing up, hands shaking. Shite, that wasn’t good. He was going to retch later for sure. It had been too long since Michael had used so much power in one day.

A sharp pull at his energy had Gavin blinking away more spots and the Vagabond was simply gone from his sight. He was back in an instant, shoving Gavin into the back and Michael was treated the same a second later, halfway out of the passenger seat when the driver side door opened and closed in rapid succession. The squeal of tires was the only warning they got before the car was bursting forward and out of the alley.

Both the passenger side doors were still open and it took some wrangling to get them closed, but eventually it was done. They flew out of the parking lot and into the street, red and blue flashing lights close behind them.

“Fuck, we got a tail!” Michael snarled and a gun was shoved at him instantly. The window was rolled down and while the gun was bigger than a simple handgun, Michael had it expertly maneuvered out the window and began to fire. His hood had been knocked off and the sunglasses were askew, but Michael paid it no mind.

Gavin just laid flat in the back and tried to catch his breath. The strain of keeping both lines up and open was starting to take its toll and he didn’t have the mental capacity to focus on that _and_ Michael shooting wildly out the window.

“Gavin.” The Vagabond said and he looked up at the man. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah,” he rasped back, “I’ve got enough.”

“Mother _fucker_ how many times do I have to shoot the damn tires?!” Michael hissed and pulled the rifle back in to reload.

That was when the world spun. Gavin lost track of time. His vision was far too blurred to see anything, and nausea reared its ugly head so strong Gavin nearly choked on it. His ears were ringing and his head spiked with pain so he closed his eyes and prayed for a quick death.

“—avin! _Gavin!_ Drop the lines!”

Why was he so panicked?

“—cking idiot, drop the lines! We’re home!”

Home? While he didn’t understand how they could possibly be home when they were still clearly on the road, he let the lines drop. It was unusual that he was able to keep the lines afloat without being aware of it. He didn’t even remember concentrating on it in the car. Hands pulled him up carefully from the back seat and it shouldn’t have been possible, but the world only spun harder in the opposite direction. His eyes were still closed, he realized, but had no energy to open them.

“C’mon, boi, just a few steps and you can pass out on the couch.”

“D’you retch M’coo?” was the best response he could get his mouth to form. “Migh’ vom.”

Instantly, hands pulled him out of the car and he folded to his knees. A second pair of hands held him mostly upright, but he was bent over enough that if he did vomit at least it wouldn’t fall into his lap.

“Yeah, I fucking did.” Michael muttered. “Get it over with, Gav.”

Permission granted, he heaved. It was gross and went on for ages, but a hand was steady on his back and it made him feel a bit better about it. His eyes were still squeezed shut and pain sparked in his head with every contraction of his stomach muscles. The shivering wracking through his body didn’t help in the slightest. He was so _cold_ , damn it! When he finally stopped being sick and could breathe like a normal human again the hands moved, switched positions to pull him up to his feet.

Gavin wasn’t able to stand on his own and it only took Michael and whoever that second pair of hands belonged to a minute to figure it out. He was lifted and it felt familiar somehow, like a dream he could only halfway remember. The world continued to turn this way and that, and the disorientation was almost enough to spark another bout of retching. Warmth radiated from whoever was carrying him and he whined when was set down on something kind of soft and the warmth pulled back.

“I’ll watch him.” Oh, Michael was back. Something soft was placed over him and then whatever he was on dipped under the weight of something to his right. An arm pulled him close to what felt like another warm body and a soft sigh of relief escaped Gavin’s lips. “You’ll take care of the rest?”

“I won’t be far.”

The arm wrapped around Gavin’s middle was trembling slightly and Gavin unconsciously placed an equally trembling hand over it. “Don’ feel good Michael?”

“I know you don’t. Just sleep.”

“No.” Gavin frowned, wanted to turn over and look Michael in the eyes but the thought of upsetting his stomach even more kept him still. “ _You_ not feeling good?”

“ _Sleep_ , Gavin. I’m fine.”

It was always like this when Gavin got bad from a draw. It wasn’t as if Gavin didn’t know Michael was also feeling the effects of the strain of using powers. It was hard on the body, and Gavin had miraculously been fine one summer evening and Michael had not. He had vomited half the night and Gavin had nearly taken him to a hospital out of fear. The tremors, the vomiting, the weakness, he had felt it all before but Michael had never fallen to the kickbacks so hard. Come to think of it, that was when he had figured out he could increase gravity as well as decrease it.

When he was feeling better he would bring it up. Maybe there was a connection. Maybe he’d just die in his sleep instead, and save himself from the lecture Michael was definitely going to give him when he woke up. With another little sigh he snuggled closer to Michael and passed out. 


	6. Chapter 6

Michael glared at the ceiling. His head was cold and his left arm had gone numb nearly an hour ago while pillowing Gavin’s head as he slept, but Michael wanted to stay close as long as possible—just in case. He had tried sleeping, but since his nausea hadn’t relented, he’d given up and started wishing for something to do. Lifting his right arm from his stomach, he could see the trembling hadn’t gone either, so maybe he should try to eat first. Usually Gavin moaned and whined if they got a bit overzealous with the power use, but Michael was used to pushing through the kickbacks. He had hoped it might have been just getting used to using the powers, since it had been so long since either of them had been hit with anything hard, but apparently not.

Glancing over at the dope’s face, he allowed himself to sigh. Watching Gavin sleep relaxed him, knowing he was breathing and recovering. His blonde lashes would move every so often, and Michael wished he knew what he was dreaming about, and tried to quell a fond smile. It slipped from his face when he thought about how their situation had changed. It was so much easier to take care of Gavin by himself, having to share responsibility and worrying constantly about the Vagabond having a decent amount of fucking self control was draining.

And this time the asshole had really done a number on Gavin. Gavin, who had let it happen, hadn’t even fucking snapped the line, and had _trusted_ the Vagabond.

Fucking idiots, both of them.

His stomach jolted suddenly, and as quickly as possible, he nudged Gavin’s head off his bicep onto the pillow. Quietly, he lifted himself from the bed and wandered barefoot down the hall to the bathroom, gently holding a hand to his stomach. Looking around, he didn’t see the creepy fucker anywhere, so he shut the door behind him and with both hands he braced himself over the toilet bowl and heaved.

Vomiting sucked, but _fuck_ , he could have lost Gavin. All because of the Vagabond, the prick.

The door opened before he was finished and sure enough, just when he thought he could spill his guts in peace, the asshole just stood in the doorway and waited for him to say something.

“You here for a show, or were you just hoping to get a look at my dick? I’ll save you some time. It’s seven inches, I measured yesterday just for you.” He snarked, spitting into the bowl before lazily pushing the flush lever. He trembled as he did, ruining his facade. 

“How is he?”

Michael scrubbed an arm across his face, grimacing at the sour taste in his mouth.

“After you stole everything he had left? He’s knocked the fuck out, and I’m gonna go make sure he stays alive while he’s out.” He moved to brush past the Vagabond, but the Vagabond snapped an arm out to block the path. “Move, asshole.”

“I got us out of there.”

Michael didn’t want to hear this. “You nearly killed him, you piece of shit!”

“He takes that risk every time he links.” The asshole just continued to stand there. Well, if he expected Michael to grovel in gratitude, he had another thing coming. “We all agreed to this.”

“Under threat of death, sure.” Michael muttered. Gavin was lucky to be alive after the stunt the Vagabond had pulled, and Michael would make sure to needle the Vagabond about that until he began to respect the fragility of their Source. “We didn’t exactly have much of a choice.”

With a slam, he was pushed against the wall, a wave of nausea following. What the _fuck_? He didn’t think he’d pushed that far. One of the Vagabond’s hands pressed uncomfortably against his chest, just below his collarbone. The other slammed next to Michael’s head and he winced, waiting for retribution. As he looked up into the Vagabond’s eyes, he saw just how blue they were for the first time. Would explain why Gav couldn’t shut up about them. Distracted, he didn’t notice one of the Vagabond’s hands leave the wall and return with a knife until it was held tightly to his neck.

“You’re always under threat of death if you step out of line,” the Vagabond growled lowly. Michael could _smell_ him, a dark, smoky flavor. It was distracting him from how intimidating Vagabond was trying to be. “I could have killed him, but I didn’t, and you need to shut your fucking mouth about being in danger.”

Michael bristled, coming back to the conversation at that.

“He’s only alive because you were lucky enough to not kill him! We agreed to your terms, and _you agreed_ to ours! So you need to keep him alive. It’s not me I’m worried about being in danger, and you know it.” Michael raged, just as quiet as Vagabond. Even furious, he’d do his best to let Gavin sleep so instead he’d pushed his face forward, even closer to the mask. Anything to get his point across.

Vagabond’s hand tightened on the knife, pressing a touch harder on Michael’s neck. He didn’t let it faze him, and continued his rant.

“You’re being an asshole, he obviously needed more time to practice. So did _you_.” he emphasized this by pushing the knife away, and the Vagabond surprised him by not resisting. “You pushed him into it too quickly, and I’m not about to stand aside and let you kill him by putting him in more and more dangerous situations just because you feel like it!”

Michael was shaking, and he clenched his hands into fists to disguise it.

“We did need more time to practice, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong for what I did.”

Huffing, he watched as Vagabond stepped back, and he dropped back onto his own weight. Michael rubbed a shaking hand across his neck, trying to bottle up the emotions that were leaking through. After a beat and a deep breath, he looked up to the Vagabond again, curiosity winning out against anger.

“What made you think accelerating the whole car was even a good idea, dumbass?”

Vagabond shrugged, and said, “It was the only way to get us out of there. Alive.”

“Fuck that! There had to have been another way, asshole.” He was shaking harder, annoyed at how his body was responding to his fear and frustration. He met the Vagabond’s eyes, intending to ream into him again, when he was stopped short by the sound of retching from the bedroom.

Michael shoved the Vagabond aside in an effort to reach Gavin before it was too late, but as he ran down the hall—nausea be damned—the second he flipped the light switch he could tell that he hadn’t been fast enough.

“Gavin!” He surged toward the bed, anxious.

There was blood on Gavin’s face, and he watched as Gavin gagged, still lying on his back. He shoved down the panic that threatened to freeze him in place and shouted at the Vagabond to get water. Not looking to see if he’d followed instructions, Michael rolled Gavin onto his side and held his head up, tilting it so that he could throw up without choking. The carpet was a mess of colors by the time Gavin had finished being sick, but Michael didn’t care if he was forced to scrub at it for the next month, Gavin hadn’t even stirred awake and that didn’t bode well.

The worst over, he checked Gavin’s eyes only to see that he was still completely out of it. Shit, this was _bad_. He’d never thrown up in his sleep before, and with him still being asleep, this could be dangerous. With gentle maneuvering he picked Gavin up and stumbled through the hall, almost running into the Vagabond with a glass of water in his hand. He finally made it into the living room to lay Gavin on the couch, where he had access to food and water. That way he could keep an eye and ear out for more vomiting or worse.

The Vagabond was silent, watching as Michael gently prodded at Gavin’s ribs, lightly patted at his cheeks, and called his name. Michael had seen enough medical dramas to get the gist of drawing a person back from unconsciousness, but Gavin didn’t let out even a groan of discomfort.

Eventually, Michael gave up. He turned to Vagabond helplessly and motioned for the water. Glass in hand, he supported Gavin’s head and lifted it trying to  tip a bit of the cold water into his mouth. The small bob of his adam’s apple told Michael that while most of it spilled down his chin, Gavin had managed to drink some of it. It would help at least a little to hydrate him.

Michael vaguely heard footsteps behind him, but he kept his gaze steady on Gavin. The labored, stuttering breaths from the strain of vomiting slowly eased back into steady inhales and slightly shaky exhales, but there was still blood dripping from his lips and nose. A moment passed, and Michael came back to himself when he felt Vagabond nudge his shoulder, and he turned to see him holding out a damp rag.

“May as well make him comfortable,” Vagabond said awkwardly, eyes averted. Michael silently nodded, took the rag, and began to clean Gavin’s face.

The next couple of hours passed in a slow drag of worry and cleaning. Michael hardly took his eyes off Gavin in fear something might change, and perked up every time Gavin mumbled in his sleep. The Vagabond had taken a spot by the door in a chair opposite to the couch with a book for the past hour or so, not saying a word. Good, Michael thought acidly. Maybe now he would understand what a shitty thing he’d done.

It was about three in the morning when he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him from his stupor. He blinked, trying to figure out if he’d fallen asleep or just zoned out, and looked up to see the Vagabond with a plate of pizza. He didn’t want it, but his traitor stomach growled at it.

“You need to eat and sleep, I’ll watch him until you get up,” The Vagabond’s voice was soft, and Michael took the offered food and unspoken apology. “I’ll come wake you if anything happens.”

“Thanks.” Moving across the room, he stuffed the pizza in his mouth and stood in the hall, watching Gavin carefully until he finished his lukewarm meal.

The Vagabond took his place on the floor next to the couch, book in hand. It was strange to watch him willingly take such an uncomfortable position, but he didn’t bother looking in Michael’s direction and every once in awhile glanced over at Gavin. Michael didn’t know what to say to him, so he put the plate in the sink and moved to the bedroom in thick silence, the two of them too caught up in their own thoughts to worry about any tension that remained from earlier.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Michael finally left the room, Ryan let out a rush of breath. He had worried that Michael would fight with him about leaving him with Gavin, but regardless of what Michael thought, Ryan wouldn’t hurt the kid. He did what he had to in the car, but Gavin had grown on him, in an annoying sort of way. He set down the book he’d been pretending to read and started stretching, wincing as he did. His whole body ached and every movement caused a wave of protest from his muscles. Even talking was strenuous, requiring too much concentration, and he was glad Michael hadn’t tried to start a conversation.

He slowly shucked off the leather jacket with a hiss of pain, going through a series of arm stretches as he mulled over what to do next. He didn’t want to jeopardize the progress he’d made with Michael, which could be a problem when they worked together next. He’d planned to have their cooperation for future heists, which meant he’d have to somehow appease Michael. He sighed, eyes flicking to Gavin, something almost honestly apologetic trying to rise. He quickly tamped any feelings of regret back down. Those two were useful, and that was all. He couldn’t work with broken tools, so he’d have to wait while Gavin regained consciousness.

Two hours into his watch he noticed the kid shivering. Gingerly, Ryan rose to his feet, book long since forgotten on the floor. His muscles protested every movement, and he cursed the backlash of using too much power. He had never used so much before, never experienced any sort of repercussions from a draw. He knew why Gavin wanted to avoid it now. His head hurt, he felt weak and exhausted, and he considered himself lucky Michael hadn’t seemed to notice.

Thankful for small mercies, he only slightly limped down the hall and peeked into the bedroom. Michael was curled up on the bed fast asleep, the blanket kicked halfway off of the bed. Figuring the kid didn’t need it and Gavin did, he reached out and snatched it up. He made a mental note to stock up on blankets. He hadn’t been gone for more than a minute, but when he came back he could see Gavin’s eyes blinking open.

“You awake?” he asked softly, making an effort to straighten out his gait just in case Gavin was more aware than he looked.

He didn’t get a verbal reply, just a shaking hand reaching out for the blanket. A small smile wormed its way onto his lips behind the mask and he closed the distance between them, shook out the blanket, and gently laid it across the lanky Source. He sat back down, watching Gavin blink heavily.

Settled, he could see Gavin’s eyes lazily move to and fro, brow furrowing slightly. Michael, he realized, he was looking for Michael.

“Michael’s asleep.”

That was all he needed, apparently, and the kid’s eyes fluttered back closed. Ryan frowned, stalked into the kitchen, and came back with a large bowl. He placed it on the floor next to Gavin’s head—just in case—and picked up his book, before he dragged the chair by the door over so he didn’t have to sit on the floor anymore.

Gavin was quiet for hours after that. He didn’t move in his sleep or wake up again, and Michael was not happy to have missed the few seconds he had been even remotely coherent. When Michael did come back out to the living room, the kid just plopped himself back down in front of the couch and didn’t move. Ryan was just satisfied he’d slept some, even if it was less than Ryan would have liked. Michael had to be feeling the effects of overusing as well, and he needed sleep as much as Gavin.

Silence was a constant, surprisingly. Ryan was a little bitter, since he could never get the two of them to shut up when Gavin was awake. Though, now that he thought about it, the brit did cause most of the arguments, asked far too many questions about irrelevant things, and generally initiated conversation. It was a wonder Michael didn’t go crazy listening to him talk for hours on end about absolutely nothing.

Sliding his attention over to Michael, who didn’t appear to even be blinking, Ryan realized he had no clue about what kind of person Michael was on his own. When it was _Michael and Gavin_ he was fierce, protective—almost overly so, and obstinate. He thought things through but appeared cautious when he wasn’t in a rage. The kid had a foul mouth, but that wasn’t unusual for his generation. But what kind of person was he alone? Ryan figured he’d need some time to figure that out. As he mulled this over, another thought came to him and he broke the silence that had grown comfortable over the hours.

“We’ll need to contact a fence sometime this week. After that, I’ve got an arms dealer lined up for us.”

Michael shrugged back and didn’t pay him a lick of attention, staring at the wall.

“You handled the rifle pretty well, and from what I can remember, Gavin told me you were good at blowing things up.”

Another shrug. Irritated, Ryan almost wanted to take it back, but he said instead,

“I’ll let you decide what to get, when the time comes. We’ll need to get weapons you’re comfortable with.”

This finally grabbed Michael’s attention. He snapped his head toward Ryan, back straight and eyes narrowed. “You’re trusting me with a gun?”

“Maybe some explosives, if there’s a good deal going on. We’re going to need a bit of everything.”

Michael leered at him. “Is this your attempt at saying you’re sorry?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. He should have known he would get hell for trying to start a simple conversation. “It’s to make you pull your own weight. I’m not going to sit through another lecture about keeping Gavin safe while you sit on your ass. You know how to use a gun, you’re going to use one.”

Michael snorted, and turned back to the wall. “Always ulterior motives with you. Why don’t you just man up and admit you fucked up?”

Ryan turned the page of his book, the on and off again relationship between the duke and the seamstress was far more interesting than Michael’s petty need to get him to admit he was at fault. He had told Michael before that he’d only done what he had to do and if Michael wanted to begrudge him that for the rest of their lives, that was his problem. He’d had enough of trying to defend himself.

They went back to silence, the comfort of it a bit more strained than before.

The next time anything happened, Gavin’s nose was bleeding again. Michael did his duty, cleaned him up, and it was back to Michael having nothing to do and Ryan picking up volume two from the small stack of old books that had been conveniently left by the previous owner of the house.

Every once in awhile Michael would side-eye him, glare at the book in his hands, and go back to whatever it was he was doing, just sitting there in front of their Source. Ryan found himself amused, watching the kid struggle with his boredom. How long would it take him to crack and strike up conversation?

Not much longer, it so happened.

“What the fuck are you reading?”

“A seedy love affair between Jacque and Marguerite. He’s cheating on Maribelle and Marguerite is pregnant.”

Michael groaned and fell back, knocking his head against the hardwood floor. “Why the hell are you so boring?”

Not that Michael could see, but Ryan quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not your babysitter. Find something to do.”

“There’s nothing _to_ do.”

Ryan reached over, stifling a groan as his abs spasmed, and offered volume one to Michael. To his surprise, Michael stood and took the book, examining the cover.

“What is this shit?” Michael grumbled. “Why couldn’t you be normal and have video games or something?”

He hadn’t thought to bring his games to such a small safehouse, and he didn’t want Michael to think he was bonding with Ryan. But, he mused, it would get him some peace. Michael read through a few pages before tossing the book aside. Too bad, since that was all Ryan had to offer.

Gavin sputtered into more vomiting on the second day after the heist, choking on water and stomach acid. Michael supported him through every heave, his thumb rubbing small circles into Gavin’s arm, while his other hand rubbed his back. The Source was eased back onto the couch, mumbling about being cold and while Michael adjusted the blanket, Ryan moved to collect the metal bowl.

There was no blood in the bowl, and a wave of relief rippled through him before he could even think to stop it.

While he left to empty it into the sink he could hear the gentle reassurances from Michael. It was intimate, in a way—a bit like brothers, but it wasn’t the right way to describe the relationship. Maybe there wasn’t a right word for it. Gavin just whined a bit in response to the calm words, and by the time Ryan came back with a now clean and sanitized bowl, he was back asleep. His breathing was easier, Ryan noted. Finally, Ryan hoped he was getting better. He’d nearly run out of money, and fencing the jewels could take some time if the first buyer didn’t pull through. They couldn’t afford to just relax at the house for much longer.

Michael looked better as well, he was slumped against the couch as he sat on the floor, but his hands were fisted into Gavin’s blanket as he watched the kid breathe. He was tired, Ryan could tell, despite doing nothing but watch and wait for the kickbacks to rear its ugly head once more.

With the two of them out in the living room, Ryan retreated back to the bedroom for a bit of time to himself. He sank slowly to his knees and reached underneath the bed, pulling at a loose floorboard he knew was there. Prying it up with one hand, he reached into the dirt and pulled out the small black cell phone he’d kept hidden.

He could use a bit of help with the fence. It’d been too long since he’d sold stolen goods and he was usually paid in cash after an assassination, so while he knew of Gretchen as a reputable seller of precious stones and metals, she very well could have dipped into other goods. It was best to get his system going, they would weedle out any details worth noting.

The phone powered on quickly and he sent a single text to put out the order. It didn’t take the system long to get back to him, more details than he needed attached to multiple replies. They must have been bored. Nevertheless, Ryan got what he wanted. Gretchen was clean and the meeting point was nonthreatening.

His weapons dealer, on the other hand, raised a few red flags.

Noting the information, he shut the phone off and returned it to its hidey-hole. Grunting with the effort, he pulled himself back to his feet and wandered back out of the bedroom and down the hall. Peeking around the corner, he could tell Michael had dropped off into sleep as well. The kid let loose a shiver himself; the weather had taken a dip and a cold front was working its way in. Grabbing the leather jacket Michael had abandoned hours ago from the bedroom, he returned and laid it over his shoulders. Michael fisted the blanket a bit harder, but relaxed even in sleep, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

Gavin was still shivering, even under the blanket, so Ryan reluctantly shed his own leather jacket and spread it as best he could over the blanket. It didn’t stop the shivers, but Ryan figured it helped, so he left it and took his spot back on the chair to finish the fourth volume of the ridiculous romance novels lying around.

Gavin woke before Michael, not saying anything about the jacket, but he gave Ryan an evaluating look that Ryan was quick to escape from. He decided to instead look for food, so he went fussing about in the kitchen. Ryan opened the fridge to look at the now days old pizza, shut it, and opened it again only to grimace at his choice of food. He finally closed the fridge, and reached into the cupboard above it to fish out the last of his emergency cash. They couldn’t go meet with the fence until Gavin was at the very least coherent, and the last few slices of pizza weren’t going to last.

Which meant he needed Michael to go grocery shopping. Ryan certainly wasn’t going to go. His mask was a large hindrance when trying to do normal people things and the paint underneath was a pain to apply. As few chances they had to see him as a civilian, the better. The trip wouldn’t be long enough to justify all of the work to save his identity, and he had a perfectly able young man to do the work for him. He needed to get out of the house anyways; the bitching was getting old and Michael still managed to bitch, even when Ryan managed to get a halfway decent conversation out of him. The silence was mostly comfortable, but even that was beginning to wear on him.

He took a handful of the small wad and returned the rest of the bills to the cupboard. Turning to shove the money at Michael and write him a grocery list, he noticed a pair of eyes watching him tiredly. Deciding not to say anything, considering the last time he talked to Gavin the kid was barely awake to understand him, Ryan ripped a piece of paper from the back of the novel he’d been reading. The last page was blank, anyways, and a complete waste of paper. A pen, he searched for a bit longer, but eventually found stuffed in one corner of the bedroom, the plastic chewed. The ink took a bit of scribbling to get going, but it would do the job. Ryan mulled over what would be best to buy, and ways he’d track Michael down if he even thought to run. Doubtful, given that Gavin would still be here, but there was always a chance.

Gavin was still awake when he returned, blinking every so often as he tracked Ryan’s movements, which was unnerving after him being catatonic for so long.

“Feeling better?” He asked, almost wanting to know the answer. Gavin nodded, giving him a wobbly thumbs up before closing his eyes and drifting off again.

Michael woke shortly after, groggy and clearly confused about the jackets. He didn’t say anything about it, just glanced over to Ryan suspiciously before shedding his own and adding it to the pile on top of Gavin, tucking in the ends of the blankets around him.

The next few hours passed in a blur of awkward silences and boredom. He hadn’t told Michael about the grocery list yet, he wanted to wait until it was night again before sending him out. As the day went on, however, Michael would let out a long sigh, shake his head to fight against sleep, and began to loudly complain of the lack of anything to do. Ryan had largely ignored these outbursts, usually startled awake from where he’d been lightly dozing in his chair, his resolve breaking a little each time. Gavin woke up periodically, but he was confused and quickly passed back out each time. Ryan and Michael took turns sitting by him, and Ryan made sure Michael ate before turning to him, list in hand.

“We’re gonna need some better food for Gavin, he’s not going to recover well with just pizza.”

“What, dude, for real?” Michael looked skeptical, but excited at the prospect of a change in diet. “Fucking finally.”

“Stick to the list. There’s a store four blocks East of here.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Michael snatched the paper out of Ryan’s hand and browsed it for a moment. “You got money for this?”

Ryan held out the small wad of cash. “I want the change back.”

“Yeah, I _got_ it.”

It didn’t take long for Michael to slip on his shoes, tighten the laces, and shove the money wrapped in the list into the back pocket of his jeans. A quick glance at Gavin, a frown, and then he was opening the door.

“It’s cold out there,” Ryan warned before he disappeared out the door, “take your jacket.”

Michael leered at him for a moment, trying to decipher the small gesture of concern, no doubt. Maybe Ryan did need to be nicer if this was the reaction he was going to get every time. It was annoying to have his kindness constantly evaluated for hidden motives.

“I’m fine. I’ll just run.”

“Take more than two hours and I’ll come find you.”

“Whatever, _mom_.” Michael threw back at him and shut the door behind him.

What a fucking brat.

True to his word, Michael was quick. When he returned he carried three bags of groceries in each hand, and when Ryan tried to grab at one of the plastic bags he was shrugged off. Despite stumbling into the kitchen and laying out the contents for Ryan to inspect, he seemed quite proud of himself. A reciept and what little change was left were thrown into Ryan’s hands and Michael was right back in his spot in front of the couch, adjusting his jacket on top of Gavin, which had shifted slightly.

And Michael had called _him_ a mom.

The third day, Gavin woke up for good. Ryan had just gotten out of the shower and was reapplying his face paint when he heard Michael shout.

“You want food? _Hell_ yeah, boi! We’ve got veggies, fruits, and don't tell the boss man, but I grabbed some bevs.”

Ryan unsuccessfully tried to hide a grin from himself. He could imagine the mad dash Michael was making to the kitchen, and would likely run into a wall on his way back. He was relieved, he realized. The boys really had grown on him, and it was nice to know Gavin would be back on his feet soon. Which meant more chaos, and he grinned to himself at the thought. He would be back to wreaking havoc before he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short this week guys, sorry about that! But we've got some big things planned for next week!


	7. Chapter 7

Gavin blinked lazily, looking out of the car window. His right cheek was smushed up against the cool glass as he stared past the raindrops running down the window to where a very wet Michael shifted in the mud. The meeting place for the fence was out in the middle of nowhere, where the roads weren’t even paved, just loose gravel in the general shape of a road. The light drizzle had been going on for hours, and it was the kind of misty rain that soaked into everything, regardless of how long a person was in it.

The Vagabond was there just a few feet away, carefully watching the fence count every last diamond and precious stone. The lady was meticulous, inspecting each one for at least a minute. She had all sorts of plastic containers in the back of her truck, and each stone had its place within them. The Vagabond didn’t really seem to be chatting her up, but she seemed to be doing a lot of talking. He couldn’t read her lips, being so far away, but if her body language was any indication of how the transaction was going, it would be fine.

Michael was left out, really only there to be extra muscle in case Gretchen decided to try and pull something. He looked awfully lonely, kicking around in the mud in the rain. His curls dripped from time to time and every once in awhile he would shake his head to get the wet hair out of his eyes.

Gavin sighed, his breath fogging up the window, and readjusted the blanket around his shoulders. Fall was coming far too quickly and he missed thriving in the blistering heat of mid-August, the way he and Michael would go camp out just to get out of the sweltering apartment. Summer offered freedom. Fall was just a reminder that winter was on its way and they’d have to hide away indoors more. Hide away in that _boring, tiresome_ safehouse.

With a man they depended on, a man they only knew by an alias.

Gavin shivered and blew on the window to make a patch of fog, before wiping it with his sleeve. Michael hadn’t moved and the Vagabond was still intently watching Gretchen count. She was taking ages and while Gavin knew he would have done the same thing, the heat stored in the car was now gone and it was just as miserable to be inside alone, than to be out in the rain with Michael.

Neither of them had told him what exactly happened in the last three days he’d been unconscious. He managed to wrangle out of Michael that the Vagabond had used too much energy, and that it wiped him right out. Gavin hardly remembered anything after being shoved into the car so it shouldn’t matter much, but the two were acting odd. Michael didn’t bitch as much, and he didn’t even lecture Gavin about being reckless. The Vagabond was kinder, a little looser around the two of them, and he’d even made pancakes that morning.

It was a bit disturbing, if he was honest. Before his three day nap he and Michael weren’t able to get much out of the bloke. They knew how to piss him off, but getting any other sort of interaction took just the right combination of conversation and general mood.

Now the guy just casually brought up the plan, choices for dinner, and how much of a cut they each would get—which was pitiful, considering how much Gavin had suffered. Still, it was more than expected, and neither of them were going to say no to some extra cash.

Finally _,_ Gretchen pushed all of the plastic bins away and cash was being exchanged. Michael had even perked up from his drenched spot, a hand casually slipping to the back of his jeans where the gun the Vagabond had allowed him to carry rested. The Vagabond took the money and shoved it into two duffel bags, Michael watched carefully as Gretchen flipped the tailgate back up into place, said something to the two of them, and got into her truck. She drove away slowly.

Michael took one duffel while the Vagabond took the other, and together they slogged through the mud back to the car. The duffel bags were placed into the trunk, and when the Vagabond slammed the trunk closed Gavin could feel the vibrations of it in the back seat. Michael slid back into the passenger seat, shaking the rain from his hair. They needed to get him a new beanie.

“You okay, Gav?”

“Top. Did we get a good deal?” Gavin pulled the blanket around himself tighter and forced himself to sit up straight. Despite not getting a tongue lashing, he didn’t want to give Michael any opportunity to decide to force another three days of bed rest onto him.

“She gave us a fair price,” The Vagabond answered. “We have enough for what we need.”

“Where are we going next?”

“To get guns and shit. He only told us the plan like three times this morning. Why do you never listen?” Michael ran a hand through his hair and flicked the water sticking to it back at Gavin, who sputtered at the shock of cold water hitting his face and pouted back at Michael. “I was promised that I get to pick out some new toys.”

“I want toys!” Gavin almost reached out to grab at the Vagabond’s shoulder, shake his want into the man, but decided very quickly against it. “Why do you get to pick, Michael?”

Something had definitely happened between the two. Michael was allowed to carry a gun now- mostly for protection should anything during the deal go south, but still, that was a lot more trust than they’d been shown before. Gavin, on the flipside, was put into lockdown, told to just shut up and sit tight. Maybe he really had overdone it during the jewelry escapade, but that wasn’t his fault! He wasn’t in control of how much was used. It was unfair to be punished for something outside of his control.

“Because I can actually use a gun? What do you even know about guns, anyway?”

More than Michael knew. “I want to pick something out! I can learn!”

“Or shoot yourself with it.” The Vagabond grumbled. “You’ll stay in the car. I don’t fully trust this guy and we might have to get out quick. I want you ready to link and keep eyes on what’s going on.”

Well at least they were pretending he had a reason for being there instead of just babysitting him. One of these days he was going to be able to be alone. It’d been so long, though, he wasn’t sure if he knew how to spend time alone anymore. Michael had always just been there without smothering him with attention. In fact, it took a good long while to even _get_ any attention from him. The challenge had been worth it, Gavin decided.

It took over an hour to get to the next destination, a crummy lake house out in the country. The rain had thankfully stopped, the sky still a sickly shade of gray. They were greeted by three men, two already packing fairly heavy and only one without a gun visibly on him. Probably hidden in the back of his jeans, like Michael.

Gavin didn’t like the look of him. He was lean and tall, like himself, but the guy had a sly look. He greeted them charismatically, arms open and waving about. Though muffled, Gavin could hear the Vagabond request the guy’s armed friends to back off. He was met with something Gavin didn’t quite catch, but he could read Michael’s body language tense. They exchanged words back and forth a few more times, and finally both of Gavin’s Inheritors were led inside the lake house.

Gavin did _not_ like not being able to see them. One of the armed men, very muscular with a mean look to him, stayed outside and stared him down outside the car. It was extremely uncomfortable, and Gavin did his best not to make eye contact. Instead, he focused on being able to see both of his boys through a window. There was a lot of talking—far too much talking and wild gesturing.

“You’re so hot and mysterious!” Gavin mumbled to himself as Mr. Tall and Lean waved his hand back and forth. “What’s behind the mask?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s private information.” The Vagabond turned to Michael, and Gavin pitched his voice to Michael’s tone.

Michael turned to him back, crossing his arms. “You should see what he can do with a hot dog, though.”

Gavin smirked and flicked his eyes back to the man still staring at him. The guy just didn’t know when to bugger off.

“It’s true,” Gavin lowered his voice to mimic his masked companion, “but I have a better package right here.”

Michael picked up a rifle, inspecting it, and the man next to Mr. Tall and Lean leaned close to him and pointed at the gun.

“This here was up my arse three weeks ago. It’s a great time.”

“Did Mr. Tall and Lean help you with that?” Michael set the gun back down and picked up another one. He looked over to the Vagabond and gestured to something. “Because I get my man to help out all the time.”

Gavin was surprised he felt a tiny pang of jealousy, which was ridiculous. Nothing had happened between the Vagabond and Michael, he was sure. Still.

“We only shag on the weekends. Weekdays are for the smartest member of our team, Gavin. He’s so handsome we had to leave him in the car so you lot wouldn’t get jealous.”

Gavin sighed to himself. He cut off the make-believe conversation and sank further into his seat. He hated being left alone, in the once again cooling car. It only gave him time to reflect on the fact that he didn’t remember the last three days. Anything could have happened between the two, and it was silly to even be thinking that anything _could_ have happened. Michael could barely stand the Vagabond, and just because the two hadn’t argued even once today wasn’t something that should have concerned him. That didn’t mean anything.

They were supposed to be getting along, and as a team they needed to trust each other and allowing Michael a gun was the first step. So why did it feel like at any moment Gavin could be dropped? They could just leave him in a car somewhere and run away together to go do macho things. And Gavin could be macho when he wanted. He could grow a beard and shoot a gun and sure, he didn’t have the muscles the other two had, but he was quick and smart and funny—at least he liked to think so. Would Michael stop needing him now he had the Vagabond?

He needed to stop thinking about an imaginary affair.

_Focus_ , he told himself, and decided to stare back at the guy watching him.

Not long after, Michael and the Vagabond returned to the car. Michael gave him an encouraging grin and the Vagabond just opened the door to the driver’s seat, reached underneath the steering wheel and popped the trunk. 

“We’re almost done.” He told Gavin before slamming the door shut.

About bloody time.

More cash was exchanged and soon Michael was opening the back seat to hand him gun after gun. More were being loaded into the trunk where half of their cash had previously sat. Gavin took a quick count and frowned. The gun to cash ratio was off and Gavin would have negotiated a far better deal had he been allowed inside. But he bit his tongue and grinned when Michael excitedly told him all about the explosives and rocket launchers they managed to lump in with the deal.

At least his boi was happy.

Gavin finally managed to relax when they pulled up into the garage of their safehouse. They’d gotten their money, and would be stocked for at least a few months, even if it wasn’t as much as they should have gotten for it. With the cash and guns stashed in the duffels, Michael and Gavin each grabbed a bag and headed into the house.

“Sure, it’s fine, but it’s just not that good! I’m telling you—” Michael argued, face tinged pink with annoyance. 

“Michael, I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense! Halo is absolutely a better game, you smegpot!” He gestured wildly with one hand, trying to finish the argument they’d started on the way home. They weren’t even comparable, the nutter. He definitely wasn’t just being contrary because something might have happened between the other two.

“Gavin, if you drop that bag, so help me,” The Vagabond threatened, at least mostly serious. “You’ll be buying your own food from now on.”

Gavin squawked, taking the duffel in both hands.

“Come on, I won’t drop it!” He couldn’t believe this, he was careful, even if he was still exhausted. The Vagabond rolled his eyes. “But I’m right, aren’t I? Halo is loads better, yeah?”

He shot a puppy dog look at the Vagabond, and was rewarded with a small hum.

“I mean, Banjo Kazooie is kind of a kid’s game, so,” Vagabond shrugged, not seeming that interested in their fight. “You could say that.”

Gavin grinned widely, letting go of the duffel again for a moment to punch Michael in the arm lightly.

“You hear that, boi? You’re wrong!” He crowed. “Nice one, boss!”

The look of irritation was worth it to win the argument, especially with the Vagabond’s help.

“Whatever, asshole, laugh it up.” Michael sighed.

They jumbled through the front door, and Gavin made a show of dropping the duffel off to the side and making a beeline for the kitchen. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in _ages_.

“We haven’t even been gone that long, dumbass,” Michael teased fondly. He followed Gavin to the kitchen as the Vagabond did his thing. Gavin just wanted food, but he heard the shriek of the basement door and shared a look with Michael. After fixing up a quick meal of a sandwich and pickles, Gavin and Michael collapsed onto the couch in the living room, watching Ryan count and sort the money that was left on the hardwood floors.

“‘Ow mush ‘oo we ge’?”

“Gavin, you animal, swallow first.” Michael looked disgusted, so Gavin quickly swallowed his food and let out an indignant sound.

“Michael, I would never! I’d definitely spit, otherwise I might gag.” Gavin said assuredly.

Michael burst into laughter and even the Vagabond let out a chuckle. Gavin smirked, proud. The fact that the Vagabond was letting his guard down inch by inch put him at ease. So it wasn’t just Michael after all. Maybe there wasn’t something going on, maybe it was just the two of them coming to terms with being stuck together.

“So boss,” Gavin asked, “which Halo game is your favorite?”

He waited a beat, and the Vagabond made an aborted sound as his phone rang. Gavin was floored. He hadn’t even noticed the damn thing in his pocket and had he known the Vagabond had it, he would have snooped long ago. Where did he normally keep it? Was he hiding it? Had he always had it? They watched as he answered it tersely, nodding to himself.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll be there in twenty.” Vagabond ended the call, looking at them sternly. “I have to go. I’ll be leaving the money in the kitchen, and you had better not break anything while I’m gone.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. He was really going to leave them alone? They would have a moment alone. _Finally_. Gavin tried to calm his heart as it picked up speed in the thrill of possibly having free reign of the house, and he looked to Michael to gauge his reaction.

“Sure thing, boss,” Michael said slowly. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Gavin, and they both wanted the Vagabond out as quickly as possible. “We might eat everything, though. Since someone—” He shot a dirty look at Gavin, who beamed, “needs to eat enough for four people. Asshole.”

Vagabond shrugged his jacket on, nodding. He tossed the money back into the duffel mostly uncounted, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He took it back to the kitchen and slid it into place on top of the fridge. Gavin looked at Michael warily, not sure to trust that the Vagabond would just leave them without locking them up. Michael shrugged, turning to watch the Vagabond leave. He hadn’t even locked the door, so he must be really testing them, or not have much of a choice but to leave. Or maybe, Gavin hoped, there was enough trust established.

They both waited as the footsteps outside the door faded, before Gavin turned to Michael, a grin on his face.

“Michael. Boi.” He stated, as serious as he could. “We’re finally alone and I’m so happy I could kiss you. Wanna go grab some games from that fancy house so we finally have something to do?”

Michael laughed, nodding sharply.

“Hell yeah! If you weren’t going to suggest it, I was. We could grab some Chinese while we’re out, too.”

They planned it quickly. It wasn’t likely the Vagabond would be gone for long, so they would need to hijack a car to get back in time. Michael pointed out one close enough he’d seen on the drive back that would be an easy mark, and Gavin nodded sagely.

“Think we should bring anything back for our good ol’ boss?” He asked, wondering what the Vagabond would even want. Michael scoffed. 

“Nah. If he wanted games he could have gotten some way earlier. Besides, I’m pretty sure the fucker is into that dumb romantic shit he always reads. Real classy.”

And with that, they were off. The car was a slight problem, but Michael soon had it hotwired and they took off back to where they’d scoped out the jewelry store. It took a bit of remembering, but between the two of them and three wrong turns, they were parked in front of the nice house. Gavin hadn’t chosen the house at random, and he ran through it again, to reassure himself.

The house they’d parked in front of had been nice and kept up well, but not something so lavish there would be much of a security system, and the bikes in front of the garage meant there would likely be at least one console they could get their hands on. Worst case, Gavin figured they could shoplift, which wouldn’t be nearly as fun. They loved drama, and the thrill of breaking and entering fit what they needed today perfectly.

Michael parked the car in front of the familiar building, and Gavin looked around nervously. It felt as though the Vagabond would be behind them, waiting to out them for leaving. But, Gavin assured himself, it wasn’t like they wouldn’t be back. It was just bloody _boring_ in the safehouse.

He climbed out of the car, walking up the steps of the house, letting Michael take point on breaking in. A smashed window later and Michael had the front door unlocked in less than thirty seconds.

The house was empty, thankfully. Michael swiftly cased the rooms, and gathered up a small television and the Xbox that was hooked up to it. Some poor kid would probably miss this, but Gavin was so done with being bored out of his brain. Gavin fumbled as many games as he could into his arms, and they quickly exited the house, dropping their loot into the trunk of the car. Michael headed back up to the house, returning with some chips and salsa.

“Yes! Michael, you’re the best, Michael.” Gavin hooted, buckling in. Michael cheered, tossing the food at Gavin and buckling in as well. As Michael backed up, Gavin looked across the busy main road at the jewelry store they’d robbed earlier that week.

“Michael! Stop!”

Michael hit the brakes with a lurch. “What!?”

“Stay here, boi. I’ll be right back!” Gavin left the car with a manic energy he hadn’t felt since before the heist.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Vagabond, glad you’re here.”

Hector greeted Ryan like an old friend, just as he did every time Ryan came to get a job. He leaned against his desk with a glassful of whiskey in his hand, as usual. There was a nervous energy about him, however, and he shifted his weight back and forth against the desk every few seconds.

“I’ve got a job for you, if you have what you said you’d have.” Hector was fishing for information.

“Like I said, I’ve got a Source.” Ryan confirmed, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “What’s the job?”

“Where are they? The Source, I mean?” Hector raised both brows and as an afterthought, added, “You know I keep my mouth shut. I’m merely curious as to what poor soul you managed to nab off of the streets. It’s one of those two boys, right?”

While it was true he had nabbed Gavin, even Hector was someone to be wary about. No names, no pictures, no personal information in the least. The last thing he needed was to be sold out, especially by an information broker.

At his silence, Hector spoke up again. “I ask because not only do you have a new Source, but you’re all over the news. I can try and get you this job, but I’m not sure the employer will accept you. That jewelry heist was sloppy, especially for you.”

Shit, Ryan knew he’d been forgetting something. The damn cameras had been on. He was so focused on making sure Gavin and Michael didn’t fuck it up that he’d completely forgotten his basics.

Shoving the embarrassment aside, he growled, “The job, Hector.”

“Alright, alright.” Hector conceded and set down his glass. “It’s an assassination, something I know you’ve got no problem with. There’s a Nick Zerik—Zareksa—however you pronounce that. He lives just south of here, near the river. He’s nineteen, just joined up with a small crew loyal to one Corpirate.”

Ryan twitched at the name. That was three times now he’d heard the name Corpirate, and he didn’t like it.

“Anyhow, someone wants him dead. Word has it he’s a Source, but no one’s got proof. Looks like the crew is pretty small, most likely a faction dealing with freight trains. There’s tons of tracks down that way. I’ve got an address and a kill by date, should you accept the job.”

“What’s the pay?”

“Sixty, if it’s done on time. Price goes down every day not completed.”

“Proof of kill needed?”

“Not necessary. The employer says word will get back to them quick.”

Might be watching for the hit, then. Ryan hated when he was watched.

“Cash?”

“You know my standards. I can process a request if you want it any other way.”

“No, that’ll do. I’ll take it.”

“Great. I’ll let the employer know, and I’ll thank you to not make me a liar when I tell them you’re better than what’s on the news.” Hector grabbed at a file on his desk and held it out for Ryan to take. “All the information you’ll need is in there.”

“My reputation says enough.” No one had ever turned him down before. Not for a hit. “I’ll be back for payment.”

“It’ll be here.” Hector sounded more confident, but there was still a layer of uncertainty. Ryan didn’t like it.

Exiting the bar was always far more of a hassle than entering. Coming in, the patrons were usually shocked at his presence, but on by the time he left they were curious, even if they were also cautious. There was always someone who thought he’d be interested in a chat. He was not. Some young, drunk hotshot tried to call out to him, but he barreled past and ignored the little shit. On his way out he caught sight of a familiar flash of purple, but he didn’t stray from his path to the door.

Sunset was early now that summer was over, and by the time he got back to the safe house it was dark once more outside. The first thing he noticed was an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Either an intruder had made their way into his house, and the boys were dead or wishing they were. Or, the boys had been adventurous in his absence and procured a vehicle. Both options were annoying.

He parked behind the unfamiliar car, turned his own vehicle off, and grabbed the gun stashed between his seat and the cup holder. Slowly, he got out, checking between the cars as he approached the door. It was closed, potentially a good sign. Someone hadn’t kicked it in, at least. Quietly, he leaned into the door and listened for voices inside.

Michael was shouting. That wasn’t unusual, but the amount of cursing was. Ryan didn’t think a sailor knew as many choice words as Michael, and he was bringing them all out. Shit.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself for the fight ahead, he turned the knob slowly so no one inside would hear it click. Then, on a mental count of three, he threw open the door and aimed for anything that moved.

Instead of armed men he found his prisoners turned partners sitting on the couch and yelling at a television screen Ryan had not previously owned, and he noticed that the couch had been flipped around to accommodate the angle of the television.

Michael paused the game and eyed him carefully, body tense and ready. He couldn’t tell what Gavin was thinking, eyes hidden by ridiculous gold sunglasses nestled on the bridge of his nose.

“What the fuck?” He snarled at them.

Immediately Gavin jumped up, shoving the Xbox controller behind his back, as if to hide it even though the rest of the evidence was clear as day around him. Games littered the floor and the pause music was blaring from the television.

“You never said we couldn’t go out!” was the first thing out of his mouth. “You said we couldn’t wreck the house, but you never said anything about adding to it. And it’s for the best, we’ve been bored and we do bad things when we’re bored so it’s better that we have something to do. And you could play too, we got a third controller.”

Ryan let the words mull over in his brain, letting the silence stretch. Gavin opened his mouth again but Michael stood as well and butted in.

“People, remember? We aren’t dogs. If we’re going to be holed up in here waiting, we need entertainment. And Gavin’s right, we tend to do very bad things when we’re bored, like play with the new explosives we just got. It’s for the best.”

Ryan’s first instinct was to take that as a threat, but memories of a pillow fort, awful singing sessions, and a hotdog being shoved into the eye socket of his mask held the rage at bay. It was true, he hadn’t given a specific order not to move, and somehow the two had managed to get all of this and return before he did, which was impressive. What was more impressive was that neither of them looked the slightest bit remorseful for their little escapade.

Maybe, he thought to himself as Gavin fidgeted uncomfortably, he could let this slide. They had exploited a rule, but that wasn’t necessarily bad. He needed clever, he needed nimble. They demonstrated both.

Maybe they were right. Maybe it was for the best.

On the other hand, they had fucked with him and he could let it go, or he could remind them exactly who decided what went on around here. He could throw them back down in the basement—no, then he’d need to move all of the guns. He could beat them into next week, but then he ran the risk that they’d turn on him.

_Be nice, Ryan_.

He took a small breath and looked again at the room. Games everywhere, but not a bad choice of titles, take-out boxes on the couch as well as on the counter in the kitchen, and two very guilty boys waiting for some kind of answer to the logic they were trying to pull off.

They had been good today. Michael had followed orders to a “T” and Gavin sulked, but he had stayed quiet and the negotiations had gone without a hitch. With a grimace, he realized he’d been approaching this like a parent with two unruly children.

“Rule number two.” was all he said, and he waited for them to figure out the rest.

“We were bored, you didn’t give the order to stay put, so we ran over to that house by the jewelry store and picked up a few things.” Michael started almost immediately. “After that we got hungry, and like rule number one states, we can feed ourselves and make ourselves comfortable, so that’s what we did. We came home and made ourselves comfy.”

Gavin looked nervous at the answer, swallowed, and quietly added. “I liked the glasses, so while we were out I lifted them.”

“No one saw, he got out without a hitch.” Michael assured.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. The boys were smarter than he anticipated and they managed to quell the initial instinct to crush them into submission. It was a step, he realized. Everything he did with them was either a step towards or away from trust, and he needed their trust if they were going to work with him on jobs—jobs he couldn’t do without a Source.

Fine.

Ryan didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge the answer in any way, just shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and brushed by them to get at the Chinese food sitting on the counter. Neither of them said another word as he dished himself up a plate and took it down the hall to eat in the bedroom by himself. He still needed to let any anger work its way out of his system before he addressed them.

Let them stew on the matter a while longer. Maybe he’d even get an apology out of one of them. Hell, maybe he’d get an apology out of both, if they were nervous enough.

The blaring of the game was turned down to a dull drone of music and the occasional sound of gunfire and the loud curses he’d heard through the front door were now mere hissing and quiet arguments. Ryan finished his dinner in the quiet of the bedroom and a series of text messages and an hour later, he brought his plate out to the sink and watched the game play from the kitchen for a bit before speaking up.

“We’re going to kill someone tomorrow. Don’t stay up all night playing.”

Both of them snapped their attention over to him, the game not even bothered to be paused. Michael’s character let out a death cry as he was gunned down and Gavin had taken off the sunglasses, looking horrified, while Michael silently looked back at him.

Ryan just grabbed a diet Coke from the fridge, checked the duffel bag from its place on top of the appliance, and waved a goodnight before retreating once again the bedroom. He needed to make a phone call in preparation for the hit. Sleep hadn’t come as easily as he thought it would and he woke twice for seemingly no reason through the night.

The third time he woke it was to loud whispering outside the bedroom door.

“No, we aren’t going to apologize. He didn’t even seem that mad!”

“That’s exactly it! When has he ever been that cool with us?”

“Maybe he’s finally done throwing a damn fit over every goddamn thing we do. You’re the one who said it first; we aren’t going to get into shit if we have something to keep us occupied.”

“We shouldn’t have gone. What if he murders us too?”

“You’re the one who suggested it! Fucking unbelievable. Do you ever take responsibility?”

“Wot?!” The squawk was hard to miss, asleep or not. “Michael, I take plenty of responsibility!”

“Oh yeah? So you apologize for that time with Bethany? How about the time you tripped and Frank took out two of my teeth? Oh, and let’s not forget the time you fucking made a deal with the goddamn _Vagabond_ and started our days as slaves to a madman’s whims?”

“Michael, you’re being a knob.”

“Shut the fuck up. You just proved me right.”

“I did not!”

“Then fucking apologize for all of that.”

“I made the deal to save you!”

“And I’ve spent every day for the last eight months protecting your ass. So fucking what, Gavin?”

“So we just apologize for running off yesterday. He’s too quiet, Michael.”

Full circle again. In the last month he’s known them, not a single argument had ever been won by one or the other, the conversation was always just redirected back to the main point and one of them managed to come up with a solution to whatever dilemma they had.

Ryan took the pillow from the bed and threw it at the door, hearing a quiet curse and a high pitched squawk.

“Shut up.” He told them, and rolled over, pillowless.

It was still dark outside which meant that the two of them had probably spent far too long playing games and finally decided to try and approach him about it, but instead chickened out to have the pointless argument outside of the bedroom door. Footsteps told him that the two had scampered off back to the living room, probably to cuddle back on the couch or whatever the hell those two did at night.

Michael usually slept with Gavin, but on occasion he would find the two sleeping separate. Michael would be on the couch and Gavin would end up sprawled out in the bed, taking up far too much room than his lithe body should. Nights of that nature had Ryan up all night wandering the house and outside from time to time. He didn’t like to go out much in his mask, as it tended to scare the neighbors and while none of them called the cops, he bet they were panicked. They probably thought he’d eat their children if they spoke up.

They were only half wrong.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Michael started abruptly when the couch he’d been happily asleep on jerked. In his haste to move upright, he managed to push Gavin off of the couch and onto the floor with a thump. The Brit took the blanket with him. Heart pounding, he whipped his head around to see that fucking stupid mask staring down at him.

“Get up. We’re leaving in twenty.”

Asshole. Gavin groaned on the floor where he’d fallen, half trapped in the blanket and trying to hide his face in it. Michael sighed and carefully stepped over him to make his way to the kitchen. Pulling out the eggs, he reached for a pan, only to remember that they had left over Chinese and put it all back. Dumping an ungodly amount of rice and sweet and sour chicken onto his plate, he shoved it into the microwave and left it going to make his way back into the bedroom.

He let the Vagabond deal with Gavin’s moaning, and changed into what clothes he’d had left after the whole Jim  incident. He was still pissed about that. Once this was over they’d need to take another trip and get some new clothes. Maybe the asshole would go with them, though he’d probably just be pissy the entire time.

The microwave beeped just as he pulled on his shirt, a simple tee with a reference not many would get. He threw on a new pair of socks quickly and trudged back out to see Gavin finally upright and moving. He looked sleepy, and his hair was wild, sticking up every which way, but he was awake.

“Michael, will you make me some of that?” He asked with a barely covered yawn as he, too, made the journey into the bedroom for a quick change.

Michael grabbed a plate and slid half of the contents of his own plate onto it. How had he known that the sleepy Brit would ask him for food? Michael rolled his eyes and stabbed at a piece of chicken. The screech of the basement door opening alerted all in the house that the Vagabond was down there fishing around in the weapons cache.

Right. They were off to go kill somebody today.

Fuck, that meant that they were probably going to be using Gavin. He was only just barely recovered and they had completely flubbed it the last time, so if the Vagabond thought they were going to be repeating the incident, he had another thing coming.

“Who are we killing?” Michael asked around a mouthful when the screech of the basement door echoed through the house again, and shoved Gavin’s plate towards him when he reemerged, looking ten times more decent.

“Cheers.” Gavin responded, and also stabbed at the chicken.

“Nick Zaretsky.” Two sniper rifles were laid onto the counter, pushing empty Chinese take-out boxes aside to make room. “He’s rumored as a Source, someone wants him dead, so we’re going to take him out.”

“Who wants him dead?” Gavin asked.

“I don’t ask questions,” the Vagabond responded calmly, patiently, “I do my job and then I take my money.”

“But what if it gets you into trouble?”

“I didn’t put out the hit, so what does it matter?”

“Well they’d still know it was you who did it—“

“Gavin, just shut up. You know how this works.” Michael swore the idiot just acted stupid. There was no way he didn’t know how putting out a hit worked, and it was obvious he was stalling. If they were going to confront him on this, Michael would rather it be straightforward. Dancing around the subject did nothing but waste time. “You said he’s a Source, right? So that means we have to worry about assholes running around with powers.”

“We’ll do it from a distance. We already know he’s the Source, so as soon as we take him out, there won’t be anything to worry about.”

That was fair, but it never worked as cleanly as that. How many times had Michael and Gavin fucked themselves over because they thought they could just take out a Source and call it good? Way too many fucking times. Seven months of avoiding getting got by the fuckers wanting to collect Sources added a sixth sense of when things were going to go to shit, and that was upwards of ninety percent of the time. Dealing with Sources and Inheritors was very different than dealing with thugs out on the street wanting to protect their territory.

“And if we don’t get him? He’s got, what, twenty people there with him? A few of them have got to be Sources. Gavin’s not recovered enough for this shit right now.”

“Stick to the plan and it’ll be fine.” The Vagabond reassured, and it was odd to hear a warmth to the voice. “We won’t be relying on Gavin for this one.”

Michael glanced at Gavin, still chewing, and shared a look of suspicious surprise. “Then what’s the plan if we can’t snipe him?”

“You’re going to blow him up.”

That sentence should not have affected him the way that it did. Goosebumps flared instantly up his arms and down his legs. His heart gave a bit of a flutter in his chest and the excitement of watching something burst into a ball of flames shot straight adrenaline into his body. He couldn’t stop the grin, and it only grew bigger when the Vagabond went back down to the basement and came back up with the rocket launcher.

_Fuck_ yes.

“That, I can do.”

“Do I get anything?” Gavin asked, eyeing the one piece of equipment Michael made sure he never touched. “At least a gun or something?”

“Maybe.”

Michael laughed when disappointment flooded Gavin’s face and he sulked into his breakfast. What did Gavin really think he was going to do? He couldn’t even drive! Well, he could, but it was so atrocious that it didn’t even really count as driving.

“You can stick with me, Gav. I’ll show you how to make a grand entrance!” 

For the first time in the last month they’d been in this shitty hell hole, Michael was excited. All of the pent up frustration he’d had to swallow, the itch to light something on fire he’d shoved down, it was all going to be unleashed and he prayed that the poor asshole they were about to kill was hiding somewhere they couldn’t reach with the sniper rifles.

_I want to blow him up._ _Please, God, let me blow him up._  

“We leave in five minutes.” The Vagabond warned, and collected the weapons he’d just proudly put on display. “Meet in the car.”

Michael couldn’t fucking wait.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Michael was buzzing with energy. The thrill of a fight overshadowed any hesitation he may have had previously about going on an assassination mission with the Vagabond. They weren’t going to be relying on Gavin; these kinds of fights were where Michael and the Vagabond _thrived_. The rush of punching some asshole in face, the power of having riddled someone full of bullets with a high powered gun, and most importantly, the rumble of a building blowing the _fuck up_.

It was ecstasy for Michael, and he knew that even if he could have found a normal job, he would always find himself coming back to the life of crime. He just loved the rush of the danger too much.

It had been a while—too long, if Michael was honest with himself—since he could just unleash the wild side and not give a single fuck. The past seven months he’d kept a constant eye on Gavin and an ear out for any sign of distress and while he was fond of Gavin, but the idiot just couldn’t take proper care of himself. That left him to beat up the punks Gavin irritated. It sure as hell beat waiting for orders from someone, Michael figured.

Which, technically was what was happening, but Michael didn’t give a shit. He was going to blow something up and enjoy it. If he had to take orders from the Vagabond to do that, fine.

Gavin was fidgeting nervously in the back of the car, asking question after question that Michael was ignoring and the Vagabond was patiently answering. For a psychopath, he was strangely tolerant of Gavin. Michael filed that away in his head as something to look into later. For now, he focused on analyzing every inch of the place they just rolled up to. It was an old train station, long since decayed. Two levels, one was the large lobby for passengers to wait in, the second floor looked like something out of a Fallout game.

Why someone would hole up here, Michael didn’t know, but judging from the cars parked next to the building, this Nick guy wasn’t alone. _Perfect_ , he thought with a sharp smirk.

The Vagabond parked them up a hill on the main road, looking down at the riverfront. The railroad tracks ran along the station near the river and a bridge wasn’t far off. The overpass was a dangerous area as there were probably lookouts if these guys were smart about business. Michael didn’t bother to actually learn what the guys were up to, what did he care? It wasn’t like they were here to stop the operation. Just _hopefully_ blow the one guy up and call it good.

“Why can’t I come with?”

“Gavin, we’ve been over this! You can’t fucking shoot, so what’s the point?” Michael unlocked the car and got out to stretch, still eyeing the overpass. “We’re not using powers this time, so just relax.”

Gavin fidgeted, eyebrows furrowed in what Michael assumed was worry, and he understood. But it was going to be fine; this was the perfect opportunity to show the Vagabond who exactly he decided to team up with.

“But Michael, what if you need it?”

“We’re going to be using distance to our advantage. We’re just here to kill Nick and then we’ll back out.” The Vagabond assured as he popped the trunk, and leaned over to open the glove compartment. Inside were the black gloves he’d worn on their jewelry heist last week. “Won’t take more than ten minutes.”

Michael tried not to look disappointed and pulled the trunk open, grabbing at the rocket launcher. “Maybe two, if we use this.”

“We need to make sure he’s dead.” The Vagabond chastised, pushing the launcher slowly back into the truck and shoving a sniper rifle at Michael instead. Asshole. “We shoot him in the head and then I’ll let you use the rocket launcher. Intel says he’s in with the Corpirate, and from what I’ve seen, that means he’s got friends.”

Fuck.

It would’ve been nice to know that they were going to piss of the Corpirate. Then again, it was about time to bite back at the fucker trying to snatch Gavin up off of the streets. Throwing the strap attached to the sniper rifle over his shoulder, he grabbed two of the handguns lying in the trunk and tucked one in the back of his pants, pulling his jacket over it. The other he put into a holster and attached it to his belt. He also stashed two knives in his clothing before adjusting his clothes to the new weight. He grabbed the rocket launcher anyways, and gave the Vagabond a dark look when he tried to take it from him again.

“It’s for after,” Michael explained, and glanced at the overpass again. There was movement that caught his eye and he jutted his chin out at it. “I think there’s two or so over at the overpass.”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of them. You see any on the first floor?”

The windows were mostly smashed, but the gray of another rainy day made it hard to see. Movement wasn’t easy to track either. Readjusting his grip on the rocket launcher, he pulled the sniper rifle off of his back and stared through the scope. “It’s too dark in there. I can’t see shit.”

The Vagabond sighed—something he had been doing all too often lately, and Michael was getting sick of hearing the sound of air whooshing against the inside of that fucking mask.

“Alright, change of plans. We’re going to have to go in.”

“What?” Gavin snagged Michael’s jacket sleeve with a tight grip. “But you don’t know how many there are.”

Michael placed the sniper rifle back into the trunk. The Vagabond did not follow suit. “Whether we shoot the guy from far away or close up, the result is the same. This way I get to cut a few bitches along the way, no big deal.”

He knew Gavin knew he’d been part of a crew before. They’d talked about it before sending Deaton that big ‘fuck you’ a few months back. He knew Michael killed people and he’d accepted it like it was nothing, goaded him on to punch some asshole’s nose into his brain, encouraged him to squash heads like grapes with his gravity when they needed to. Gavin knew he loved to blow things up, maybe even needed to every once in awhile, but he couldn’t understand the darker days of pushing some kid’s shit in so hard he crawled back to his boss with only three toes and two middle fingers.

He hadn’t been there when Michael had torn through a drug den and nearly didn’t make it out,  stabbed _and_ shot. Or the time three guys thought they could jump him, and he’d ended up with infected knife wounds. Countless times where he should have died, but hadn’t, mostly due to sheer determination. Michael was far more than just an Inheritor, and it was time Gavin saw that.

“I want you to take the far side of the station. I’ll take out the guys on the overpass and come from the other side. Zaretsky’s probably either in the lobby or on the second floor. Rumor has it he’s a Source, so he’s bound to have some muscle keeping watch.” The Vagabond finished strapping on his own various weapons—which included far more guns than Michael had taken—and turned to Gavin with a small handgun. “Be careful, there’s a chance the target could bail and we don’t see it. You’re gonna need to keep him here long enough for us to come.”

Gavin sputtered for a moment, hands fumbling over the weapon for a moment. “What about headsets?”

Michael didn’t really care about headsets, how could the Vagabond think giving Gavin a gun was a good idea? A walkie-talkie was shoved at Michael, interrupting his thoughts, and another was shoved at Gavin.

“We’ll use these.”

Lame, cell phones would have been less bulky and they could at least text to keep quiet. This shit was going to be obvious.

“No headsets?” Gavin sounded so disheartened Michael almost reached out to console him. He probably thought it’d be like some spy movie. “But won’t these be too loud?”

“It won’t matter. Quit bitching, stay here, and be ready to drive—“

“I can’t drive.” Gavin interrupted.

There was silence for a moment and Michael watched carefully for any slight changes in the Vagabond’s body language. Nothing but another fucking sigh.

“I should have expected that. Stay here, watch the perimeter, tell us if anyone leaves the station.” And with that, the Vagabond left, slowly making his way further down the road to no doubt get a good sniping point.

“Don’t go.” Gavin said to him after they lost sight of the Vagabond. “He’s a Source, I don’t like it.”

Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“He’s only rumored to be a Source. I’ll be fine, Gav, I’ve got a shit ton of bullets and a fucking rocket launcher.” Michael turned to leave, but Gavin once again grabbed at his jacket. “Gavin—”

“I’ll come get you out in ten minutes.” Gavin promised, and his eyes were serious, searching his. “Be careful, Michael.”

Those three words shouldn’t have sounded so foreign, like he was hearing them from under water and it could have been the cold of the rainy day, but a shiver wracked his frame. Softening at the tone, he reached out and pulled Gavin forward by the back of his head into a sort of awkward half hug. Gavin was taller than he was, gangly and awkward and holding a very loaded gun between them, but he hoped the contact would soothe him.

“I’ll be right back, boi. I hope you remember how to get blood stains out of clothes.” Michael laughed and pulled away from the Brit. He held his arms out so the jacket he was wearing opened enough to reveal the popular game logo of the shirt he was wearing, that just so happened to be Gavin’s.

Gavin immediately recognized it and squawked indignantly at him. “You wore that on purpose!”

Michael managed to squeeze out a blunt “Yep!” between laughter and took off to the right, the opposite of the Vagabond and slid down the hill carefully. The ground was muddy and he nearly fell flat on his ass before reaching the bottom.

“You minging little a-hole!” Gavin hollered at him, and Michael flipped him off as he went down the hill. When he was close enough for anyone to hear him, he walked softly, looking around.

The train station was way bigger up close than it looked from up on the hill, long and wide. It took Michael a moment to reach the edge of the building, and he carefully listened for anyone outside of the front. Met with silence, Michael peeked around the corner. He was able to see two guys hanging out by the overpass, obviously supposed to be the lookouts. They weren’t doing shit, one was skipping rocks into the river and the other was walking on the edge of the tracks, trying to keep his balance.

Perfect. Neither were facing him and finding it a good opportunity to sneak in, so Michael carefully laid the rocket launcher down on his side. He wouldn’t need it and while he really, really, wanted to blow this fucker up, it could wait until the end when he was a safe distance away and might possibly be able to blow up the whole building in one go. Gavin could pop a boner at his badassery and the Vagabond might finally let go of the fucking leash he’s had on them this entire time.

 _In and out, then you can blow the bitch up_ , he reminded himself, and took the gun from his holster.

No one was outside but the two guys from the overpass, and it was way too fucking easy to sneak around the front side. Peeking up through a window, he was able to catch a glimpse of another four in the lobby hearing them bullshitting about a girlfriend and pregnancy. At least he’d get to do something other than snipe.

One distant pop, then another, and the Vagabond taking out his targets had alerted all four men inside of the busted up lobby. Michael cursed, realizing Vagabond hadn’t silenced his rifle, with him directly between the people heading his way and the disturbance. Two came barreling outside, guns drawn. Michael, still mostly crouched, took the opportunity to blow the first guy’s brains out before firing twice into the chest of the second. Neither had even seen him, and he cursed quietly, as he realized his problem. The two behind him had seen him. He heard a shout, and then heard bullets flying overhead through another window very much shattered into tiny, sharp shards cascading over his head.

Michael shook the glass from his hair and backtracked to the second window he’d passed, peeking up and into the lobby. In the dark it wasn’t easy to tell, but he couldn’t see anyone inside.

There was another distant shot and Michael furrowed his brow in confusion. Had the asshole missed, or were there more guys than they thought? Either way, he didn’t have too much time to ponder as pain lanced through his shoulder.  Cursing, he rolled back to the right as two more loud shots followed. He couldn’t tell if he’d been shot or hit by glass, but it was obvious that the bullets came from up above him and followed him until he ducked into the lobby.

More shots followed him inside, and he ducked behind a broken bench, wincing when a bullet grazed the soft wood and splintered above his head. He was going to need to wash his hair thoroughly to make sure nothing was stuck in there.

“Motherfuckers,” He hissed, and dared to peek up again to catch sight of some skinny dude snarling at him.

Five more shots were fired before the clicking of a very empty gun echoed in the empty lobby. What a fucking idiot. Why would he pick a gun with only six shots in the chamber? Michael grinned at his luck, and popped back up from behind the splintered bench, gun aimed right for the moron.

Except now there were three morons. He’d literally just multiplied himself. A beat, and then there were five, and Michael was confused for all of five seconds before they were advancing on him. Fuck. He shot rapidly, aim a bit sloppy but making hits nonetheless. Two of them went down instantly, but then the other three doubled in front of his eyes and _shit_ this was not good. There was a fucking Source in here, and Michael didn’t have time to try and locate the little shit before the six were converging on him and he managed to get one last shot in before a fist hit his cheek and skinny body tackled him down to the floor.

“Fuck!” He snarled, aiming his gun to the one wrapped around his torso. Brain matter sprayed up into Michael’s face and his eyes instantly closed for protection. Another fist made contact with his cheek at the same time a foot stomped down on his right hand and the gun he’d had tight grip on clattered away from him.

The body still lying on top of him was shoved off and replaced with well aimed kicks to his abdomen. The breath was knocked from his lungs, and he curled in instantly but the foot still pinning his right hand to the ground prevented him from moving too much. From there it was a flurry of kicks and punches and it was getting real old, real fast.

Michael could taste blood in his mouth and managed to spit a gob out in between hits and suck in a shaky breath. The beating paused for a moment, and five of the same fucking rat-faced bastard panted out curses and jeers at him. 

Fucking amateurs, all five of him. Michael snatched the gun out of the back of his pants with his left hand, shooting the one pinning his right hand to the lobby floor in the chest. The asshole went down and before the other four could start another round of beating, Michael fired blindly and drew a knife with his right hand, sinking it into the shin of one who backed off quickly, with a cry of agony. Michael fired blind with the gun as he took out the other knife he’d stashed away.

When he managed to get to his feet there were still three left to take down, but movement in the back of the lobby—that must be the target—distracted him, and once again he was wrestled to the ground. The knife was wrenched from his hands by one of the copies, but a shot took out another, leaving just two trying to stab him.

Which was fine, because even though his legs were pinned, and one of them was trying to choke him while the other wrestled with his right arm over the knife, his left arm was free to punch the one with his fucking gross-ass hands around his throat right in the teeth. It hurt like a bitch, and the edge of now broken teeth cut into the spaces between his knuckles, he pulled back and punched until the hands around his throat were gone.

Michael let go of the knife and twisted his body in one single motion so when the last remaining copy lunged for the falling knife, Michael was able to push him face first into the ground, pull his fist back, and slam it into the back of the asshole’s head. And then, because the back of the head was hard and not nearly the kind of gratification he needed after getting jumped by the same six fucking rat faced fuckers at the same time, he flipped the guy over and sank his fist into his face over and over again. When he couldn’t recognize the guy’s stupid fucking face anymore, he gave himself time to get his breath back.

Fuck, his face hurt. And his hand. And his fucking back.

The adrenaline of the fight was slowly seeping out of him, and he pulled himself up to his feet, kicking at one of the bodies. The static and beep of the walkie-talkie coming to life caught his attention and he heard a worried, “ _Michael?_ ” from the other end, but pain hit his right side and Michael realized he’d made a big fucking mistake. The asshole he’d knifed in the shin was down but not out, and now had his knife.

The white hot pain burned just as much going in as it did going out, and Michael was tempted to sink down to his knees, but he knew it was over if he did. Instead, he tried to roll out of the way of another stab, flopping over rather spectacularly. He was in far too much pain to properly roll, but it gave him some space to work with.

“You fucking brat!” The last copy snarled at him. “I don’t know if I should finish you off or just drag you back with us and watch you die slowly.”

“Fuck off, bitch!” Michael hissed right back, left hand digging painfully into his side to try and staunch at least a bit of the blood coming out of him. He would bleed out before he made it back to the car if he didn’t end this quickly.

“You one of Ramsey’s little crew?” The last copy spat at him and limped forward threateningly with the knife held white-knuckled. “One of the little ones he likes to fuck on the side?”

Michael spat right back at him from his place on the floor, which was beginning to get slippery from the blood, but even from the ground he could flip this asshole into next Wednesday and finish what he’d started. “You his wife? You must be a lousy fuck if he’s fucking his whole crew.”

The asshole’s face twitched and he narrowed his eyes at Michael as he flicked blood off of the surface of the knife. Asshole still thought he had the upper hand. Real fucking cute. “You’re not with Ramsey, then. What are you here for, little bitch? What crew thinks they can take on the Corpirate?” Michael laughed, blood making him choke a little.

“That’s still the fucking stupidest name I’ve ever heard. Your boss wear a fucking eye patch too? He shout ‘Yar!’ when he comes on your face? Maybe ‘Shiver me timbers!’?”

Rat face took another threatening step forward and Michael shoved the hand against his side in tighter, tried to look a teeny bit intimidated. One more fucking step forward and the guy was done.

Michael never got a reply.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ryan lined up his shot, rifle propped up inside of an empty abandoned train car. It was faded red with the doors open on both sides, allowing him to lay inside and use the shadows of the car to conceal himself. Not that he was worried. It wouldn’t take long to pick off the two lazy lookouts under the overpass. Neither were paying any attention and with two sharp cracks, they were down. The noise shouldn’t be a problem for Michael, if he was as good as he said.

Distantly he could hear gunshots and knew Michael was at work, most likely taking the brunt of the danger, but this was as much of a test as it was a job. He’d wait a few minutes and then go converge on the other side. While it was worrying that the target was a Source, Michael had a rocket launcher. He would be fine. Getting to his feet, he slung the rifle back over his shoulder and debated on whether or not to use knives, guns, or grenades.

He heard the footsteps too late and was thrown into the side of the rail car. His head cracked against the rusted metal and pain flared up his back. White, black, and then white again filled his vision, but he shook the shock of the blow off. It took him a moment to realize the source of the attack was once again coming at him. He looked up at the car, eyebrows raising in surprise to see that he’d dented the side of it. Someone had thrown him so hard he’d _dented_ a _metal_ rail car. Ryan assessed the situation, knowing he would likely die if he didn’t take this guy seriously. With a spike of fear, he wondered if Michael was facing a similar situation. Shaking it off, he looked at his attacker.

The man swinging his fist at his face wasn’t overly muscular, but was definitely well-built and didn’t look like he used steroids, which Ryan thanked small mercies for. He was average and that would have disappointed Ryan, but the punch he barely managed to avoid shook the entire car and nearly punched through the metal. Okay, Ryan thought. Definitely an Inheritor, then.

Ryan rolled further out of the way, hopped down off of the car, turned and fired. He hit the guy in the back, somewhere up by the shoulder blade, but it didn’t seem the faze him at all. The bullet was lodged in, but not nearly as far in as Ryan expected. Well shit. He fired again, this time aiming up, but the man dislodged his fist and wheeled around to face him, narrowly avoiding the bullet to the face.

His options were pretty limited if bullets had no effect; knives were probably no good, but the grenades might work, if he could time it just right. The problem was the guy moved pretty quick and he was _quiet_. He hadn’t uttered a single word or grunt the entire two minutes Ryan had been fighting him, which was unnerving, even for him. The guy stalked forward, rolled his left shoulder, where Ryan’s bullet decided to dislodge and hit the floor with a tiny _plink_.

Everything about the guy screamed trained fighter, and if he had Inheritor abilities on top of that, Ryan was going to get the challenge he sorely missed from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum lying brainless by the river. Or death. At least he wasn’t a talker, Ryan wasn’t really in the mood after answering all of Gavin’s questions on the way here.

His adversary hopped off of the train, following him, and Ryan took two steps back before firing, just to experiment. The shots hit their mark, one in the left shoulder again, and the other in his left side. Minor damage, but the guy still jerked with the impact and finally let out a single annoyed grunt. He was bleeding a bit, but not nearly what a normal wound would.

Ryan tossed the handgun to the side with a small shrug of his shoulders. He also ditched the sniper rifle as removing the weapon would free up a lot more of his movement. It was broken and bent, anyhow, judging by the dent in shaft, and he sneered. That had been expensive, and he didn’t want to have to buy another.

The man waited almost patiently, it seemed, and Ryan used his mask to his advantage, looking around for the Source. There was no way the target was out in the open with all of the noise that Michael was making inside of the station. He could hear the shootout ensuing and at least it was better than silence; he knew Michael was still alive, at least.

Ryan decided to take the initiative. He hadn’t been classically trained in any specific art, but he picked up a few things along the way, and he could get by against most styles. While the guy in front of him looked trained, he didn’t seem to be the type that trained his whole life, and Ryan could work with that. 

A punch was almost always the first move in any fight. Ryan’s jab was loose and quick, expecting one in return and meeting it with a sweep of his foot, trying to knock the guy to the ground. To his surprise, his foot met solid calf muscle and the guy didn’t budge an inch, even when Ryan went in to force him down with his whole body.

Absolutely nothing. There was a small quirk of a smile and then Ryan was flat on his back, two strong hands pinning his shoulders while knees and legs pinned his middle down.

Fuck—

He was definitely at a disadvantage. While one hand came up to block the blow aimed straight for his face, the other pulled the knife hidden up his sleeve and Ryan dug the knife right into the guy’s side that was still lightly bleeding from the bullet that was no longer lodged into it. The asshole howled as metal sank into flesh, and Ryan growled, twisting in it went. The guy reared back, hands going to the knife and he pulled it out with a snarl, clenching it tightly in his fist, letting the blood on it drip slowly to the floor.

Ryan pulled his other hand gun from its holster at his side. He was going to need more to work with, but he still let his eye wander briefly for any sign of the Source. One had to be near for this guy to have… well, it wasn’t technically just super strength, that wouldn’t have given him stronger skin, too, would it? It had been too long since he picked up a damn comic book or seen a superhero movie. He couldn’t remember all of the obscure powers someone might end up with, and he vowed to watch one if he made it out of this alive.

Waiting for the Inheritor to do something gave him a second to recover his breath, and Ryan veered left to dodge as a knife whizzed past him, following up with a shot. Bullet met skin and stopped at bone, a small circular hole carving out another vulnerability in the guy’s chest, dead center. The force of the shot put the guy slightly off balance, and Ryan shot again, aiming for the same place. He missed, catching more of the guy’s chest, who had recovered quickly and surged forward.

An incredibly strong grip caught his jacket, and Ryan was launched back into the rail car. His shoulder clipped the door of the rail car as he was thrown in, and he spun face down inside, regretting his decision to let Michael run rampant inside while he “took it easy” at the overpass.

The guy was climbing back in, still not saying a single word. Now it was kind of irritating, cause if the guy opened his mouth to taunt him, to ask about the mask like they always did, he could at least come up with a clever one liner while he blew the guy to hell. Aw, well, it had been fun while it lasted. As soon as feet came even somewhat close, Ryan made his decision, and pulled the pin of the grenade in his pocket.

Hands came down to try and grab at him but Ryan just slapped the grenade into one of them and rolled the other direction, falling unceremoniously out of the rail car and into soggy mud.

He heard the man yell “Shit!” from inside and Ryan scrambled to run, thinking quickly.

Five meters was the kill zone, fifteen was serious injury, and shrapnel could travel up to one hundred meters, and would. He’d experienced it enough to know this was going to hurt. He was barely going to clear the kill zone, and he hoped the grenade worked. The bastard was strong, and after this he wasn’t going to have many more ideas on how to kill him.

His legs pumped fast, despite the pain licking up his back, and he was barely five meters out when familiar heat reached him and staring out ahead of him he could see Gavin running toward him.

Ryan took hold of the line and _pulled_. Fifteen meters cleared, then twenty, and at twenty five he collided with Gavin, shoving him down to cover him with his own body before the telltale boom of a grenade rocked the rail car. Sharp pains in the back of his legs told Ryan that he hadn’t escaped the shrapnel, but he wasn’t dead, thanks to Gavin’s appearance.

Then another explosion, louder and far more grandiose forced Ryan back down on Gavin, covering the kid’s head with his hands as they waited for the aftershocks to stop.

“Michael!” Gavin cried underneath him. “He’s in trouble!”


	9. Chapter 9

A single shot rang out, and the last rat-faced man teetered backwards before dropping heavily to the ground, a small gross squishing sounding when the body fell onto head of the one Michael had punched into the floor. There was a noise and snapping his head to the left, Michael saw the target shaking in horror, gun in hand.

“Shit!” Nick Zaretsky cried, and tried to aim.

Michael grinned through gritted teeth; this idiot Source had absolutely no shot in hell of hitting him. Even if the guy’s hands weren’t shaking so hard, he’d shoot far left every time with the way he was holding the gun. This was exactly why he tried to teach Gavin how to shoot, so he wouldn’t make such amateurish mistakes as this idiot.

With a pained grunt, almost a whine—but Michael wasn’t in proper company to show that kind of vulnerability—Michael pulled himself up to his feet and made his way over to the body of the only ally Nick had left. He stooped down with a quiet hiss, and bloody fingers wrapped around the hilt of his stolen knife. A bullet whizzed to his left and Michael huffed a small laugh. This was going to be far too easy.

“Give it up, man. You can’t shoot worth dicks.”

“Shut up!” was the snarled response and once again shot too far to the left. “I’m going to kill you!”

“I think you’ve got it backwards, bitch. See, I’ve killed all your buddies and they’ve only roughed me up a little. I don’t think I’m as pretty as before and that puts me in a real fucking bad mood.” Michael let his voice drop lower and took a confident step forward, paused for a breath hoping it just looked dramatic, and then took another.

Nick took a shaky step backwards, shot uselessly again, and with a whimper he threw the gun to the side. What the actual fuck was this guy thinking?

“Look, I uh—we could work something out! I don’t—I don’t need to work for the Corpirate, right?”

Michael shook his head, brought up his left hand, caked in blood, and rubbed it down the side of his face. He loved getting dirty for this shit, it was usually super intimidating. “See, now you’ve brought up an interesting point.”

“Right? I’m a Source,” Nick gave off a nervous little laugh, “you and your buddies could use me. Yeah, I can be useful.”

“Yeah, but,” Michael tsked and took another couple of steps forward. Nick hastily scrambled backwards, knocking into something with a small noise. “you see, you sure threw your employer under the bus real quick. Who’s to say you won’t do the same to us if we took you under our wing?”

And that was when Nick took off up a set of stairs. Rather than follow him, Michael headed out, spitting on the corpses on his way. He limped his way back with small curses outside of the station. Right where he’d left it, the rocket launcher was waiting patiently for him to pick up.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

He needed distance so he didn’t fuck himself over, so he trudged closer to the river, nearly stumbling over the train tracks on his way. Once he was a fair distance away, he could see Nick’s head poking out a window, looking down and around for any sign of him.

What a stupid bitch.

Michael lined up his shot, the heavy launcher resting on his shoulder. His side was screaming at him and the blood loss was getting to him a bit, which meant his target was a bit blurry in the scope, but Michael fired anyways. The sound went straight to his head and the headache from being punched in the face a few times escalated into sharp stabbing pain. He lost his balance; he hadn’t been in a proper stance to shoot the thing, and the recoil jolted him a bit.

By the time Michael fell flat on his ass, the building shot up into flames and smoke, rubble being blown out into all directions. The middle of the station collapsed in on itself, sending more smoke and debris into the air.

Michael took a shaky inhale. _Fuck_ that felt good. He sat a moment, enjoying the way the smoke billowed and the rain tried desperately to put out the fire engulfing everything inside. There was absolutely no fucking way Nick Zaretsky escaped that. The cops would be up their asses soon, however, and he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the view for very much longer.

That was when he saw something fall from the second story. It was on fire, flailing about.

That motherfucker. There was no way. No _fucking_ way.

Michael left the launcher, dragging his ass up with an arm wrapped around his middle. The flailing ball of fire rolled until it was no longer on fire, and Michael hurried to hobble over to the little bitch. A blur of black and blue caused Michael to hesitate, and then Michael could barely make out someone carrying someone else on their back—oh. That was Gavin and the Vagabond.

Wait. What the fuck was Gavin doing with the Vagabond? He should have been their look out. He stood silent in his confusion, watched as the Vagabond shot four times into what used to be Nick Zaretsky, and listened as Gavin shouted his name into the burning train station. It took him a moment, but hearing the panic in Gavin’s voice sent his feet back into action and after stumbling over the tracks for a second time, he approached his two partners.

By the time he reached them, Gavin was desperately trying to enter the collapsed train station, held back only by the Vagabond’s sheer strength. Gavin was thin and tall, able to wiggle out of almost any hold, and he was making it difficult for the Vagabond to hold onto him.

“Gavin, you can’t—”

“Let go! _Michael!_ ”

“Gavin!” Michael called, flinching when glass broke, cascading down what was left of the building near the two of them. “Gav, I’m right here!”

The fire was roaring and it was probably difficult to hear him, but Gavin snapped his head to the left. Michael expected the fight to bleed right out of him but instead Gavin only fought harder, pushed a hand into the Vagabond’s mask and slipped from his grasp. He ran and collided straight into Michael instead, sending them both crashing into the dirt. Michael saw stars, hissing harshly against the pain overloading all of his senses.

“You stupid bastard! I thought you were dead, you bloody stupid bitch!” Gavin was strangling the life out of him, arms wrapped around him in any way he could. “I told you not to go, Michael!”

“You’re the bitch! You’re supposed to be on lookout!” Michael snarled back without any real fire behind it. “Get off, dear god, get off!”

Instantly Gavin removed himself, tugging at Michael’s clothes. He was met with blood on just about every article of clothing Michael was currently wearing. Michael watched the blood drain from Gavin’s face and was about to reassure him that he was fine—bleeding a lot, maybe to death if they didn’t patch him up soon—when the Vagabond pulled at the back of Gavin’s shirt and hauled him up to his feet.

“We need to move, now!”

Michael was also roughly manhandled back up onto his feet, and he noticed the faint sound of sirens. Their mission was complete, with Nick was dead with four holes in his face and the rest of his body burned to bits. Gavin ducked underneath Michael’s left arm, dragging it up over his shoulder so he could support him. Michael shot him a grateful look, and together they managed to get up the hill and back into the car. Michael was helped into the backseat with Gavin, where the Brit had shed his own shirt and was pressing down on the knife wound in Michael’s side with it.

The Vagabond didn’t look too roughed up, but Michael was too busy trying not to pass out to really look him over. Somehow they managed to pass two cop cars and three fire trucks on their way away from the scene of the crime and no one paid a lick of attention or they would have noticed the mask the Vagabond was still—forever and always—sporting. Michael wanted to ask lots of questions, but he was in too much pain to argue if he didn’t like the answers. Gavin had questions too, judging from the way he kept opening his mouth to say something, and instead just murmured apologies when he pressed down.

“I think we should go to a hospital. He’s bleeding too much.” Gavin advised and Michael opened his mouth to disagree, but the Vagabond beat him to it.

“I can sew up bullet and knife wounds.”

They didn’t have their fake IDs anyways. Getting in and out with the type of injuries they had would be too many red flags and someone would make the connection. A noise of discontent left Gavin, but otherwise they remained quiet until the car rolled up into the driveway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

To say Gavin was hovering was an understatement, and he knew it. Anything the Vagabond asked for, he fetched as fast as he could; the med kit from the first time he and Michael had met the Vagabond, the rubbing alcohol, hot water to sterilize the needle, towels from the bathroom to lay on the couch underneath Michael, and Michael’s request for painkillers.

“Back up, you’re in my light.”

Gavin reluctantly pulled back, no longer leaning over the back of the couch to watch the needle thread skin back together. While he wasn’t fond of blood, he was determined to keep his gag reflex at bay and make sure Michael wasn’t in immediate danger of bleeding to death. He watched the needlework carefully and when Michael couldn’t hold back the small noises of pain, he reached down and took his hand in his, squeezing just as hard as Michael.

“Make sure you tie off the thread, at least three times with a wound this big.” The Vagabond said quietly. “And sterilize the needle in between wounds.”

Gavin looked up, nodded, and then grimaced when the back of Michael’s side was once again splashed with a bit of the rubbing alcohol. Michael jolted, muttered a litany of curses, even more when the Vagabond cleaned the surface of his skin with the corner of a towel.

“Sit up slowly; we need to bandage it now.”

Michael did as he was told and brushed off Gavin’s hands trying to help him. “I didn’t even get to kill the fucker that did this. That Nick guy was a terrible shot.”

“You got lucky it didn’t hit anything vital.” was the gruff response and Gavin bit the inside of his cheek. He should have gone with him; with gravity they could have immobilized the enemies and taken them out quickly. There was no reason for him to be left behind. “Gavin, go get ice.”

Gavin didn’t even think about it, just instantly strode into the kitchen and pulled open the freezer door. The ice maker was full and Gavin snatched the small hand towel lying over the handle of the oven and shoved as much ice as he could into it. By the time he was returning Michael still hadn’t put a shirt on and the Vagabond was running his hands over his middle, pressing in some places. Michael would wince and jerk in spots, but all Gavin could focus on were the dark bruises covering him.

Gavin handed the ice filled towel to the Vagabond, but he only shoved it into Michael’s hands and gestured for him to hold it to his face. To Gavin’s surprise, the Vagabond waved him close and pulled down on his shirt until Gavin was kneeling next to him.

“You feel each rib,” came the instruction, and this close to him, Gavin could hear the strain in his voice. “check each one for dents or protrusions. They won’t feel right.”

A warm hand took Gavin’s and he squeaked as his hand was placed on Michael’s chest. Gavin looked over nervously at the Vagabond first, then at Michael, who was looking equally confused. Still, the hand over his stayed and swallowing back the obvious questions of _why are you touching me?, why am I the one doing this?,_ and _what does this mean?_ , Gavin did as he was instructed and pushed weakly at Michael’s chest, running gentle hands over each rib.

“I can’t feel anything weird.”

“Good. Just bruised then.” The Vagabond retracted his hand from Gavin’s and it was then that Gavin noticed his cheeks were flushed. “Grab the needle, his hand needs stitches.”

The blood that had rushed to his face immediately drained back down. While Gavin could stomach watching the Vagabond stitch Michael up, he wasn’t sure he could handle _actually_ pulling skin back together.

“I can’t—I’m gonna vom if you make me, boss.” Gavin protested weakly and went to pull away. But the Vagabond only reached past him, grabbed the needle in the hot water, and placed it into Gavin’s hand. “Really, I don’t think I can—”

“You need to learn this. I’m going to need this done to my back, and Michael’s hand is fucked. You’re going to have to do it.”

No. No, no, no. Gavin wasn’t ready, was hardly listening the first time the Vagabond narrated his medical treatment.

“I’m just _practice_?” Michael spat. “So it’s fine if he fucks up my hand but god forbid if he scars up your back?”

“Just shut up.” The Vagabond snapped. “Gavin. You need to do this.”

Gavin wanted to spew his guts right then and there just to show him he couldn’t. His hands were shaking and the needle was sitting heavy in his palm. “Come on, boss, _please_ don’t make me—”

“Ryan.”

Gavin blinked twice first, uncomprehending. He looked up again at Michael first, who was just staring at the Vagabond intently, then over to the Vagabond, black skull mask still as emotionless as always.

“I’m tired of hearing you call me the wrong thing. My name is Ryan.”

“That’s too fucking normal.” Michael bluntly protested. “It doesn’t even fit your look.”

The Vagabond— _Ryan_ —sighed heavily. “Gavin.”

“Ryan.” Gavin answered back. “I can’t do this.”

“You can, and you will. I won’t always be here; you need to learn how to keep Michael alive.”

It was a really good point, but there was still blood dribbling from Michael’s left hand and the cuts were deep, he could see the hint of bone knuckle in one of the gashes and he gagged again. _Ryan_ just pulled at his wrist, flicked a lighter and held it up.

“Sterilize it first, then thread it.”

Giving in to the fact that he was going to do this whether he wanted to or not, Gavin’s hand shook as he held the needle in the flame of the lighter for a few seconds before grabbing the thread with his right hand. Ryan snipped off the appropriate length of thread and it took Gavin nearly a full minute before he was able to thread it. He gagged, and Ryan encouraged him in a low voice and through Michael’s hissing and cursing Gavin was instructed step by step into closing the deepest of the gashes. His hands were bloody by the end, but Michael’s hand did look much better.

Then the gag reflex kicked back in, and he barely made it to the loo in time to vomit into the toilet. He heard Michael and Ryan’s conversation through heaves, a small argument about following orders. It ended quickly, however, and when Gavin returned back to the couch, he was handed a newly sterilized needle, already threaded, and grimly Gavin realized he had two more wounds to sew up. And then his _practice_ was over.

“Thanks, boi.” Michael whispered quietly, when he was done tying off the final knot. “You did a good job. I doubt it’ll even scar much.”

Gavin offered a small, shaky smile. “Thanks Michael.”

“Do me a favor and give him some ugly ass scars.” Michael adjusted his makeshift ice pack down to the bruises along his neck. Gavin could see the fingerprints within the dark purple of them and his stomach dropped.

It was a day of firsts, Gavin realized, when _Ryan_ —Michael was right, it was too normal—shed his black and blue leather jacket, and then, more carefully and with some degree of difficulty, since he insisted on still wearing the mask, pulled off the black shirt underneath.

Shit, he was _built_.

Well-sculpted muscles distracted Gavin from anything Ryan said to him and it wasn’t until Michael growled out an “ _Earth to Gavin!”_ that he snapped out of it, and shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked. His cheeks flared back up with heat he tried to keep Michael from seeing.

“Uh, sorry, you’re just real banged up,” Gavin trailed off, slowly.

“Damn, that’s a nasty bruise. What hit you?” Michael asked, indicating the dark bruise taking up most of Ryan’s left shoulder. He was purposefully not looking at Gavin. “Got your ribs too, huh? I thought you were just sniping?”

“There was an... unexpected guest. He was of a super strength variety.” Ryan waved Gavin closer and he swallowed thickly. “Check my ribs first, shoulder next, and then we’ll worry about the shrapnel.”

“Yeah,” Michael grunted when he shifted on the couch, “I had some asshole who could multiply. It was six to one at one point.”

Gavin snapped his attention to Michael, stomach flipping. “What?”

“I got him, don’t worry. All six of him.”

“But he was an Inheritor.” Gavin argued, stepping away from Ryan, who sighed again and threw his hands up. “I should have been with you.”

“We were giving you a break.” Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m not helpless without you, you know. I know how to fight and it turned out fine.”

“You’re beaten black and blue!”

“Yeah, and I killed eleven guys on my own. Chill out, Gavin.” Michael winced and pressed the ice pack harder into his neck. “Why were you over by… Ryan… anyways? You were supposed to be our lookout.”

“It’d been ten minutes.” Surely Michael hadn’t forgotten what Gavin had said to him. “You didn’t answer the walkie, so I went to get him so we could go rescue you.”

“I didn’t need rescuing, thanks,” Michael bit out, switching the ice back up to a swollen cheek, “I handled it.”

“You should have answered the walkie, then!” Gavin huffed.  “You scared me, Michael.”

That shut Michael up long enough for Ryan to pull at Gavin’s arm, tugging him toward the task he was avoiding. “Check the ribs first, just like I showed you.” He seemed about as thrilled about Gavin checking him over as Gavin was to actually do it. Which was not at all, Gavin wanted to point out.

Just like before, Gavin ran his fingers gently over Ryan’s chest. There was some bruising and swelling, but none were cracked or broken. Ryan’s shoulder, while a mess of purples and reds, was also fine, miraculously. When Ryan turned around, however, and Gavin could see his back, he nearly ran to the loo again to be sick. Small cuts ran along his back in no particular pattern. Most of them weren’t deep, some were just small dots, but there were two that were bleeding. There was a long bruise going diagonally across his back about three inches wide.

The sniper rifle, Gavin realized; Ryan had been carrying it across his back. The shrapnel must have been from the grenade. Swallowing back a bit of guilt, Gavin pushed back the memory of being bodily thrown to the ground and covered. The Vaga—Ryan was _solid_.

“There’s—there’s two deep ones, I think. You’ve got a nasty bruise across your back.”

“Do any of the others look like they need stitches? Think about Michael’s hand and use those to compare.”

“No.”

Gavin retracted his hand, glanced over to Michael who was staring at the two of them with a strange look on his face. Deciding to ignore it for now, Gavin reached for the needle lying in the hot water for sterilization. Fishing it out, he doused it in the rubbing alcohol, like Ryan had done before, and threaded it. It took just as long as before to get the damn thing through the tiny hole, and Gavin wondered how Ryan could do this so quickly.

Ryan only grunted once for each wound he stitched up, and Gavin tried to work as quickly as he could. It was a bit more awkward, with the two of them standing in the middle of the room and with Michael still staring them down. Gavin had half a mind to tell him to bugger off, that he was making Gavin nervous, but he put all of his energy into not vomiting instead.

With Ryan stitched up and his back wrapped—which Ryan had to help Gavin do, because the damn roll of bandages was fighting him—Gavin was sent to grab more painkillers. The mask remained on while Ryan put his slightly shredded tee and jacket back on and Gavin totally wasn’t _staring_ , he was just watching to make sure Ryan didn’t need any help. Michael teased him about it nonetheless, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“You did good today,” Ryan said, “both of you.”

Before either of them could process, Ryan headed down the hall with a bit of a limp and closed the door to the bedroom. Gavin turned back to Michael, looking equally concerned.

“Did he just…?”

“Yeah, Gav, I think he did. Did he hit his head?”

“He gave us his name.” Gavin glanced down the hall again, trying to study the closed door. “He’s being friendly. He’s _teaching_ us, Michael. What is he on about?”

“You’re sure he’s not dying, right?” Michael groaned and tilted on the couch, lying on the side opposite of his stab wound. “Maybe he’s mad and he’s going to kill us later.”

“You alright, boi?” Gavin looked back to Michael, a bit pale on the couch. His curls draped over his face a little and Gavin sat himself down in front of the couch and leaned against it, reaching a gentle hand to push the hair back out of Michael’s face.

Michael hummed in response, eyes closed. “Tired, Gav.”

“You want more painkillers?”

“You’re like my mom.” Michael mumbled. “Just need to sleep it off.”

Gavin smiled. “It’s not everyday I get to pamper you. It’s usually me the one who’s feeling right awful.”

“S’why we didn’t use you today. Needed to show him I’m not just an Inheritor.”

A pang of envy hit him and Gavin poked at Michael’s swollen cheek. He was more than just a Source, too. Not that Michael would believe him. Ryan wouldn’t either, he bet. It was easier to let them believe he was just little Gavin who couldn’t do much. It kept things simple, safe.

“Ow! Gavin, you asshole!” Michael’s hand shot out and pushed him over. “Go away if you’re gonna be a little bitch.”

Gavin huffed, “Fine, I’ll go bother _Ryan_ instead.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in hell. At least I won’t be the first one murdered.”

Pulling himself up to his feet, he left Michael to doze on the couch and quietly slinked down the hall. He could hear talking inside of the bedroom, and he was going to just listen, but it went quiet and there was the small click of something being snapped shut before the door opened.

“What do you want, Gavin?”

For a second Gavin panicked. He didn’t really have an excuse as to why he was off to bother Ryan, and while he had been nice before, Ryan had a habit of switching moods pretty quickly, especially when Gavin was around.

“Uh—you were limping. Did you, I mean, are your legs okay?”

Ryan was silent and Gavin shifted a bit under the gaze of the blue eyes under the mask. “It’s a bit of cramping, nothing to worry about.”

Cramping? “You dealing with backlash from taking power?”

For whatever reason, Ryan decided to actually answer him. “It doesn’t happen every time, but I must have triggered it today when I drew from you.”

Gavin hadn’t even thought about the kickbacks with Ryan. The man never said anything, never complained before about anything painful.

“I can give you a massage, if you want.” He offered, half hoping to be turned down.

Ryan probably wanted his space, like usual. He usually just retreated to the bedroom when he wanted to be alone and let Michael and Gavin do the same. The bedroom, while small and boring, was a reprieve from nonsense arguments, prying questions, and, Gavin realized, fretting partners.

But Ryan merely stepped out of the doorway and beckoned with his head for Gavin to enter. Gavin nervously glanced back down the hall at Michael, but he couldn’t tell if he was even still awake or not. Stepping in, Gavin didn’t dare shut the door behind him. Ryan laid on his stomach on the bed.

“Just do my legs,” a beat, “please.”

The massage was awkward and a little clumsy, but once Gavin fell into a rhythm he could feel the muscles under his hands relax. It wasn’t a long massage, but it felt good to be able to help Ryan out for once.

“Ryan,” Gavin started, mouth still getting used to saying the name.

“Hm?” It was a lazy sound, and Gavin could tell he was tired too.

“Who were you talking to?” Gavin paused in his ministrations a moment, afraid he might be overstepping his bounds. But he could see the phone in the back pocket of Ryan’s jeans and he’d heard him speaking.

“Hector. He’s the man who’s paying us for the job. We’ll go pick the money up tomorrow.”

“Is it a lot?” Maybe they could get a decent place and Gavin could actually enjoy having a home again instead of dreading this small, boring place.

“It’s decent for the amount of work we put in.”

“Do I get a cut?”

Ryan snorted. “You don’t. Maybe Michael.”

“What?” Gavin sat back on the bed, scowling. “That’s not fair!”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I saved _you_.” Gavin argued. “And if I had been allowed to come Michael wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Ryan groaned and sat up pulling the legs of his jeans back down. “I’m not having this argument.”

“Because you know I’m right.”

“Because you’re an idiot. Michael didn’t want to include you because he wanted to show off his skills.”

“I have skills too.” Gavin muttered, and then went wide-eyed because he hadn’t meant to admit that out loud. Now he was going to have to cover. “I can sing! And, I’m very good at stealing things.”

He could feel Ryan’s gaze on him but he wisely decided not to meet the stare. He was being analyzed, and it was making him a bit nervous, and when he got nervous he made mistakes. He needed to brush off the conversation now.

“I’m going to go check on Michael.” Gavin made to get off of the bed but his arm was grabbed firmly.

“Then why don’t you and I go solo, and you can show me these skills of yours.”

“I already told you my skills. Do you want a song, Ryan?” _Be obnoxious and he’ll get tired of you. He’ll let you off the hook._

“You’re hiding something from me Gavin. Rule number two.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “We can’t leave Michael. He’s injured.”

“He’ll be fine in the house and there’s something I need done. Something tells me you can help out with that.”

Michael was going to be mad. Annoyed he’d been caught out by Ryan, he let himself enjoy how Michael would take the news. Gavin quirked a small smirk; Michael was always so cute when he got mad. His face scrunched up and his face goes red, he’s loud and sometimes violent and the things he says are so amusing. The smirk dropped. What if things went wrong? Michael wouldn’t be there to notice if he was drained, and even if he cut the line with Ryan, he wasn’t going to be in any sort of state to fight someone off.

“We leave tomorrow afternoon.” Ryan told him, and Gavin resented the fact that he took too long to think of a good comeback. “I’ll let Michael know in the morning.”

Sulking, Gavin shrugged and left the room, shutting the door behind him. How was he going to get out of this? Did he even want to? It would be nice if _someone_ knew; pretending to be just Gavin Free, Source for Michael and the Vagabond was becoming tiresome, frustrating. Who knows, maybe Ryan the Vagabond was worth spilling secrets for.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay this week, guys! Some personal matters needed to be taken care of and it put us a bit behind schedule. No worries, there will be another chapter out on Sunday like usual. Thank you for your patience.

Convincing Michael to stay home while Ryan dragged Gavin out to take care of some business took hours. The kid was such a pain in the ass about it that Ryan almost gave up taking the Source along. He could take care of things on his own, but Gavin was still keeping secrets and that would let him off the hook for too long. Whatever it was, he was hiding it from Michael too.

Now the skinny Brit was sulking in the passenger seat, completely opposite of how he’d been around Michael not twenty minutes before. He had Michael’s jacket wrapped around himself, too big and still dirty with dried blood, but Michael had insisted Gavin take it with him. Honestly, the two acted like lovesick puppies when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. Come to think of it, he might not be too far off the mark, and it made more sense the longer he thought about it. Not that either of them would admit it to him, he mused, and continued to drive in silence.

Gavin wasn’t willing to speak, trying to avoid the inevitable, and Ryan just enjoyed the quiet for a while. Late afternoon traffic caused a delay, but Ryan didn’t give a shit about making Hector wait. He had the difficult decision of risking Gavin alone in the car or risking everyone seeing him inside. In the end, Gavin tagged along close behind him.

“Ah, so this is him, huh?” Hector greeted as he opened the door to his little corner office. “You know, it’s a wonder he’s working with you, kid.”

Gavin smartly shrugged in response, and Ryan crossed his arms. The mood dropped drastically and Hector grimaced, waved them in, and entered a combo into the safe underneath his desk. A briefcase was withdrawn, placed on the desk, and snapped open.

“It’s all there; I’ll let you count as usual.” Hector took a step back, going for a glass bottle of

whiskey and looking at Gavin. “I know he’s probably got a leash on you, but if you ever want to make some money, give me a call. I’ve got jobs coming out of my ass for a Source.”

“Won’t happen.” Ryan dug through the neatly strapped bills, flipped through each stack for any bills that didn’t match and then shut the briefcase. “Let’s go.”

“I take it you’ll want more jobs in the future?” Hector asked when they were halfway out the door.

“I’ll be in touch.”

Gavin stuck close to his side as they exited the dark bar and got back into the car. The bar goers raised eyebrows at the two of them, but no one made a fuss. Tossing the briefcase into the back, Ryan started the car back up and continued on to their next destination. After five more minutes of silence, Ryan decided to finally address the elephant in the room.

“You’re stalling.”

“Why did he know what I was?” Gavin wouldn’t look at, just stared out the window.

“Jobs without Sources are scarce, supposedly.”

“So you need me to get jobs?”

Ryan shrugged. “Hector’s not the only negotiator I deal with, he’s just more aware of what I like. There are plenty of jobs for a hired gun.”

“Why didn’t you kill us, back then?” Finally, Gavin looked at him. “You didn’t know what we were, so why didn’t you just shoot us and get it over with?”

“I wanted information and you looked easy to crack.” Ryan answered honestly. “I was right.”

Gavin huffed and Ryan let him sulk until they finally reached the outskirts of the city.

Rolling hills, trees, a little bit of sunshine after three days of rain—it was a refreshing sight. He pulled off to the side of the road and with a small wave, beckoned Gavin to join him outside to lean against the hood of the car and stare out into the greenery. There was a farm to the far left, stretching for acres and mostly growing long fields of corn for the autumn harvest. Next to that was a small pasture, a few sheep and horses in separate plots.

Behind that was another farm, the crops unidentifiable in the distance and in the middle was overgrown land that acted as a divide. A dip in the landscape created almost marshy conditions from the recent rains. Finally, to the right, lay Ryan’s target. Ugly greenhouses in rows of three covered the plot of land. Next to that was a spacious building, most likely a warehouse for the crops growing. Beside the building stood high voltage power lines, thick and tall. It was unsavory land for those concerned about cancer and radiation.

Gavin pulled the jacket around himself tighter to block out the cold wind. “What are we doing out here?”

“I used to come here a lot,” Ryan said, crossed his arms and leaned a little farther back to get a bit more comfortable. “It used to get to me, sometimes, the bustle of the city.”

Gavin cracked a grin. “Were you a country boy Ryan?”

“Once.” He admitted. “There was a rancher here, cows for acres.”

“You came here to watch the cows?”

“It’s more relaxing than you think.” Ryan defended. City boy, he thought and fought the urge to shake his head. “George was the name of the rancher. He caught me staring once, fed me the best steak I’ve ever had. George was found dead five months ago in the river not too far from us.”

Gavin turned to look at him, but Ryan kept his eye on the ugly greenhouses, the gravel covering what used to be trodden grass.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’re about to make someone else sorry.” Finally, Ryan turned to Gavin, changing the subject. “Rule number two.”

Gavin flushed and looked away. “I wasn’t trying to _hide_.”

“Bullshit.”

“Alright, I’m hiding things,” Gavin admitted, and still didn’t meet his eyes, “but it was because of Michael.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows despite knowing Gavin couldn’t see the reaction. It was almost more fun that way. He kept quiet and waited for Gavin to continue.

“You’ve probably noticed, but Michael gets angry a lot. His little face gets all red and he shouts and—“ Gavin paused a second to snort out a giggle, “it’s just so funny! I figured it out early on, so when he tried to teach me how to shoot a gun, I may have shot badly on purpose. And burned breakfast every day for three weeks. And run my mouth so he’d have to fight three guys at once. There was this one time—”

“Get on with it.”

“Well, I’m actually pretty smart.” Gavin shrugged and kept the smile on his face. “I know how to shoot and I could probably hold my own in a fight.”

“Bullshit.” Ryan didn’t buy the story as a whole, not for a second.

“I could!” Gavin protested, and added after a second a mumbled, “Probably.”

“Not that. I’m calling bullshit on your whole story.” Ryan got off of the hood of the car and stood in front of Gavin, a bit closer than was comfortable for either of them. “You can do more than shoot a gun.”

Gavin’s face fell a moment, but the smile remained, though less confident. “Alright, you’ve caught me. I’m actually proficient in hacking. I’ve been doing it for years and it’s what brought me stateside. I was hoping to make it big over here, but then I met Michael and then we met you.”

A hacker, huh? At least he’d be far more useful now. Something still didn’t add up and Ryan wasn’t in the mood to deal with a web of lies.

“Why would you hide it from Michael?”

Gavin blinked at him. “I told you, it’s hilarious when he’s—“

“No,” Ryan took another step forward, not quite threatening but it added pressure to the conversation. “see, in the month we’ve now known each other, I’ve been watching the two of you. You both constantly bitch about each other’s safety. The second Michael is out of your sight you worry, and it’s the same with him. So why wouldn’t you use your hacking skills to add an extra layer of security? The jewelry store heist would have gone a lot smoother, a lot safer.”

Gavin’s façade was cracking, and Ryan saw right through him. “Michael’s old gang. If they knew what I could do, they would have separated us and used me in jobs without Michael. While I was useless, it was Michael’s job to watch out for me and no one wanted to deal with someone who just faffed about.”

“While that’s an interesting story, I’m not buying it, Gavin.” Ryan took another step closer and he was practically between Gavin’s legs at this point, leaning in until they were almost nose to nose. “You’re still hiding something.”

Gavin stared him down, opened his mouth to deny it, and Ryan narrowed his eyes, dared him to lie. It took thirty seconds of intense, uncomfortable silence before Gavin’s mask finally fell and Ryan could see the vulnerable man he’d only seen when the Brit had been barely conscious after the jewelry heist.

“I had an Inheritor, before Michael.” Gavin’s voice didn’t crack, but it was a close thing. He turned his eyes down almost demurely. “We came overseas together. We didn’t know anything about powers and Sources until one night it just happened—we linked, he drew from me, and I was a right mess after that.”

Ryan backed up a pace, let Gavin have room to breathe to tell his tale now he’d gotten what he wanted.

“He wasn’t… he was scared, and he thought it was his fault but we didn’t know what we were doing. I snapped a line for the first time back then, and I think it shook him. He didn’t want to hurt me and I didn’t want to hurt him so he decided to just… leave.” With a shaky smile, Gavin looked back up into Ryan’s eyes. “I didn’t know what to do so I just wandered the city. That was when I met Michael. We were both in a bank and it was being robbed. Michael was close to me and I could tell he was like—I could tell he was an Inheritor, so I linked with him.”

Gavin took in a shaky breath. Whoever this first Inheritor was, there was no doubt Gavin was attached. While he could somewhat understand running away in an effort to keep someone safe, he was a dumbass. Anyone could have snatched Gavin up and sucked him dry. Gavin was lucky he had ended up with Michael.

“I was only going to do it so we could escape. The police were taking too bloody long and my visa had expired, so I was worried they’d just deport me and I still hadn’t found… so I just followed Michael around. He wasn’t very fond of me, but I was useful.” Gavin shrugged. “I thought he’d ditch me, but he never did, so I just tried to be as useless as possible. I figured he’d leave eventually too, but Michael was more fun than I thought, and when his old gang tried to sell me off to the Corpirate, Michael blew up their base. And their backup base. And then he blew up the boss in his house so they’d stop chasing us.” Gavin smirked a little. “We got a lot of attention after that one.”

“So you’ve been faking being useless just to see if Michael would drop you?” Ryan heaved a heavy sigh. “Are you a fourteen year old girl? That’s something insecure girls do to test their boyfriends.”

Gavin scowled. “It wasn’t like that!”

“That’s exactly what it was like. You wanted to see if he’d ditch you, so you tested him. And now the test has been going on for what? A year?”

“Eight months.” Gavin corrected. “You’re just twisting my words. I was going to leave him before, but he was fun and we worked well together so—”

“Dress it up all you want, Gavin.” Ryan grinned behind the mask.

“Shut up!” Ryan could see the flush crawling up Gavin’s neck and into his cheeks. “Are we going to take revenge for the cows or are you just going to make fun of me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Ry- _an_!”

“When are you going to tell him?”

Gavin looked away in a pout and once again drew Michael’s jacket tight around himself. He was thinking seriously about it, Ryan could tell that much. “I don’t know.”

“It’s been eight months. If you were looking to piss him off, you’re going to get what you want.”

“I know,” Gavin huffed, “but I took too bloody long and what am I supposed to do now?”

“Tell him the truth, get yelled at, and hope your little test was worth it.” Ryan could see a fearful response forming and cut Gavin off before he could even start. “Either you tell him, or I do. I’m not going to pretend you’re incompetent so you can keep your boyfriend. Now, _Mr. Hacker,_ why don’t you tell me exactly what we’re going to do?”

He could tell Gavin was starting to panic; whether it was from the ultimatum or putting together a plan such short notice, Ryan didn’t care. He was going to see what Gavin could do. He patiently watched Gavin swallow hard, glance around, and then back at Ryan.

“I haven’t got any equipment.”

“You haven’t sold me on a plan yet.”

“So you’ll get whatever equipment I need.” It was interesting, to watch Gavin work things out. He mumbled to himself, got off of the hood of the car to inspect the landscape, squinted his eyes at the greenhouses in the distance. “When do you plan on going in?”

“In an hour.”

“Jesus,” Gavin grumbled, “it’ll take me that long to get set up. I’m going to need four, depending on traffic. We need headsets, I need a computer, a cell phone—”

“You get one hour, and my cell phone.” Ryan pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it at the supposed hacker. Gavin fumbled, but caught it nonetheless. “No one out here is going to have the kind of security you’re thinking of. We’re talking drug dealers, growers.”

“Christ alive.” Gavin mumbled again and rubbed a hand down his face. “I can get into their phones with this, but that’s about it. Do you know who they work for? The best I can offer is a distraction, corral them into one place.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll only be able to track the ones with phones, but if you can set up a trap, hide in the shadows or whatever, you’ll be able to take out most of them. If I go with you, you can you your speed against them.”

“You’d be in the fray.”

“Don’t have much of a choice. I can’t drive.” Gavin shrugged, “It would have been easier with Michael here too, he could hold them in place with gravity.”

“Yes, well,” Ryan also shrugged, “someone decided to keep secrets.”

Gavin chose to ignore him and set to work. He had a password on the phone, but Gavin had cracked it in about five minutes. Ryan was fairly impressed. Another minute went by and Gavin frowned up at him.

“Why are there like, thirteen contacts with the name Edgar?”

“Just do what you need to do.” Ryan warned, sidestepping the question. He should have expected Gavin to snoop. He didn’t send much in the way of text messages, so there wasn’t much to go off of.

“I’m waiting for programs to download.” Gavin waved, and fingers continued to fly over the screen. “You are terrible about taking accidental photos in your pocket. How do you even do that? You’re like an old person who just figured out how to use a phone.”

It was payback for teasing him earlier, not that Ryan cared. To distract himself from the annoying Source prattling on and on about how his setting choices were awful, he did the best he could to inspect the power lines. If his previous hunch was correct, they weren’t too far from a power grid. If that was the case, then this really was the perfect spot.

Maybe Ryan would get a cow or two, in honor of George’s good taste of land. On second thought, he’d have to tear down all of the greenhouses, replace the gravel with actual grass again, put up a fence—fuck it. The gravel stayed, the warehouse stayed, but those green eyesores had to go.

“Right, so there are seven blokes with a phone.” Gavin’s voice filtered back in over Ryan’s thoughts, “I can’t be sure they’ll all fall for it, but at least you’ve got a number now.”

It was less than he was expecting. With the level of operation they were running, that left probably five of them working the crop with the other two running things. That was if there were only seven. He didn’t expect the poor saps they were forcing the do the growing to have phones on them anyhow.

“Get back in the car.” Ryan ordered and fished the keys out of his pocket. Gavin obeyed, phone still in hand. “You’ll send the message, we’ll ambush them. You’re going to stick by my side the entire time, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. But, like, there’s no way. You can’t know thirteen Edgars. That’s an insane coincidence. Did he just change numbers and you didn’t know you could update it?”

“Gavin,” he growled,  “they’re going to be armed. You’ll need to prove you can shoot a gun.”

Gavin sagged in the passenger seat as Ryan revved up the engine and they were on their way down the hill and closer to the greenhouses. “I can shoot, promise.”

It took ten minutes to find a spot to pull over without being too obvious. There wasn’t much foliage to hide the car, and they needed it close by in case things went tits up. The neighboring landowners had to have known what was going down in the greenhouses and were either paid off or threatened into keeping quiet, which meant no one was going to bat an eye when they crossed the empty lot of land with large guns in hand. Well, Ryan had large guns. Gavin had a small gun with two clips, far more than he’d ever need.

Gavin, to his credit, kept quiet as they snuck through, complained only once when his sneaker sunk into mud up to his ankle, and somehow managed to keep up with Ryan as they slogged through the wetland. Ryan led them to the far edge of the property, behind the last greenhouse before the land turned to marsh. It bordered the ranch behind it, where the sheep traversed close the fence. They bleated and, as Gavin would say _faffed about_ , without a care in the world.

A wicked idea sprung to mind, and while Gavin was still distracted with his phone—he was growing nervous about what exactly the Brit was doing to it, and he’d have to thoroughly go over every setting and message to be sure the brat hadn’t done anything irreparable—Ryan glanced around the corner of the greenhouse they were hiding behind. He could hear voices in the distance, but they were too muffled to be outside, so most likely they were inside one of the green houses.

The fences holding the sheep at bay were simple, two wooden beams spaced out just enough for them to stick a head through, and high enough that they couldn’t jump over in any way. The wood was old, not exactly rotting, but weakened with age. Lashing out with steel toed boots, it only took a few well placed kicks in the weakest joint for the fence to crack and crumble just where he needed it to. The sheep were startled and had run away from the loud cracking sounds and Gavin’s panicked noise. It didn’t take long for them to wander back, however.

“Send a message. The fence in the back is broken.” Ryan ordered, and pulled Gavin to around the corner. “They’ll be distracted with the sheep and we’re going to pick them off.”

“That won’t work for long.” Gavin warned. “We might get a few, but they’re going to notice the blood.”

“Which is why we’re going to move over to the warehouse once five go down. Two rows down and as far left we can go. We’ll use speed."

Gavin nodded, “Alright, but you’ll have to carry me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Just send the message.”

The message was sent, and Gavin narrated very dramatically as he typed it out. Then the phone was shoved into the back pocket of his jeans, and both of his hands were wrapped around the silenced handgun. He was at least holding it correctly, Ryan noted. There was still the danger of friendly fire, but he’d give Gavin a chance to prove his proficiency.

Sure enough, there was a storm of swearing and yelling. Two men came barreling down the aisle, arms waving and shooing away sheep once again startled. The sheep didn’t know where to go in the new environment, however, and just nervously pranced about.

“Fucking sheep! This fucking asshole is gonna pay for every last crop damaged. Where’s Reggie?! His fucking weed is about to get eaten!”

“Who the fuck sent the message?” someone else asked, “Carl got the same fucking one and neither of us know the number.”

“Who gives a fuck? Just kill the damn sheep!” the first man snarled, “I’m gonna eat mutton for a goddamn week.”

A shot rang out, more of the sheep scattered in an instant. It was the perfect opportunity to take them out and Ryan stepped out from around the corner with his revolver, also silenced. He took two shots, one a perfect headshot, and the other catching the second man kneeling over the dead sheep saturating the gravel in blood in the middle of his chest. He went down, and that was all that mattered. Someone swore halfway down the long aisle of greenhouses and he lined up another shot, catching the guy in the back as he turned to run back to safety.

Gavin hovered behind him, eyes wide and searching. “Are there more?”

“Looks like only three took the bait. Let’s move.” Ryan strode forward, ignoring panicked sheep as he moved down the row of greenhouses, careful to glance down the aisle after each one to see if anyone was coming. Apparently everyone was off to get weapons, most likely in the warehouse. They needed to go down two rows, however, in order to approach the large building.

They were lucky the greenhouses weren’t made of glass, adding a film that at least provided a little bit of cover for them the hide behind. Gavin piped up from behind him, phone once again back in hand.

“We should have checked if they had phones.”

“You can’t see where the others are?”

“If I had a computer, sure, but the best I could do with this was tell how many devices had service out here.” Gavin grumbled. “If you weren’t in such a hurry I could have told you names, passwords, porn habits…”

“Doesn’t matter. These guys aren’t the type to be smart enough to run.”

They didn’t encounter any other workers as they passed the remaining green houses, so Ryan crouched down. Gavin followed suit and Ryan motioned for him to stand back up. When he only stared blankly in response, Ryan shook his head.

“Get on my back. We need to move quickly.”

Recognition lit up Gavin’s eyes and with a small smile, he moved to obey. But then he stopped, and whispered heatedly, “The damn rifle is slung over your back!”

“Just deal with it.”

“It’s going to tear into me. What if I accidentally knock the trigger?”

He wasn’t going to win, so Ryan tore it off of his back and tossed it into the gravel. “There, now get on, Gavin, before I change my mind and leave you here.”

Gavin murmured something about being cranky, and how it was Ryan’s idea in the first place, and while Ryan struggled not to strangle the idiot, Gavin’s long legs wrapped around his waist and arms still holding a handgun wrapped around his neck. Wrapping his arms underneath

Gavin’s legs, Ryan lifted, adjusted to the new weight, and waited for the warmth of the link being established to hit like it always did. As soon as he could pull, he did, and the rush of air that came with moving faster than anything else hit his mask and stung his eyes a bit.

He kept up a brisk pace, careful not to pull too hard at the link and worked his way to the back of the warehouse, away from any doors. When he stopped moving, he could hear Gavin suck in a breath next to his ear.

“Bloody hell!” he hissed, and immediately let go of Ryan, landing on his ass in the gravel. “How are you not dizzy after that? I might vom—”

Ryan ignored the gagging, focusing instead on windows, doors, anything that could possibly be used against them. “How are you on energy? Have you got enough for another round?”

“Yeah, I’ve got—” there was another gag, and a small burp to accompany it, “there’s enough, but _please_ , don’t make me do that again.”

Ryan wasn’t sure why Gavin was so affected. Ryan never felt a thing after speeding except for some slight windburn from time to time. Then again, while he had been sped up, he supposed his powers hadn’t accompanied Gavin, and so he probably blinked and they were at the back of the warehouse. Ryan didn’t feel bad in the least.

“We haven’t tested range.”

“I’ll just hide in a corner, but I can’t—” the gagging might’ve been funny in another situation, but now it was just over the top and frustrating, “I can’t do that again.”

“If I leave you I won’t be able to tell if I’ve taken too much.”

“Ten seconds.” Gavin moved to sit against the outside of the building. “Stop after ten seconds and I’ll give a thumbs up or down.”

Thinking over the possible negative outcomes, Ryan weighed his options. If he left Gavin in a corner, he’d probably be safe. He could take out anyone close first, at least, and then make his way through. If Gavin gave the thumbs up for a round three, he was sure he could eliminate any possible threat. Speed was far more useful than he had initially thought.

“Fine. I don’t know what’s inside, so keep on guard. I’ll come back to you after ten seconds.”

“Okay,” Gavin agreed, still a bit miserable sounding, but the gagging was mostly contained and over with.

The back door was reinforced, so he had to shoot the lock off and kick in the door, which only alerted everyone inside where they were coming from. The second he wrenched the door open he pulled at the line again and grabbed Gavin by the upper arm. He didn’t mean to be rough, but a bullet whizzed past him as soon as he entered, speed be damned, and he threw Gavin behind a stack of crates. Not wasting any time, and while he wasn’t as fast as a bullet, he could at least see the trajectory of them as they whizzed by and it was enough to dodge. In his head, he counted the seconds.

 ** _One_ —**he could see three close, all armed and ready for them.

 ** _Two—_** he shot quickly, not worried about perfect shots, although he hit targets every time. Two went down and he was distracted with, judging by the line of bullets narrowly missing him, was an automatic weapon on the balcony.

 ** _Three—_** the bullets missed and struck bags of weed waiting to be crated instead. Ryan fired three times at the balcony, but he missed the targets up above. Damn it.

 ** _Four—_** turning on his heel, he took out the last remaining guy somewhat close to Gavin. Weaving around crates and stacks of loose weed, he covered fifteen feet and counted three on the balcony, two more at the front of the warehouse.

 ** _Five—_** no more bullets whizzing, he found stairs leading up to the balcony and took them two at a time. He couldn’t get close enough to be accurate and he was halfway through his time limit.

 ** _Six—_** he finally reached the top of the stairs he raised his gun again, both hands to steady his shots.

 ** _Seven—_** three shots, two of the hit, one missed. Damn it! The time limit had him choking. He fired again, twice, and both hit the last of the ones on the balcony.

 ** _Eight—_** he was almost out of breath and nearly tripped coming back down the stairs. Two left, near the front door to the warehouse. His back flared with pain. He might have busted his stitches.

 ** _Nine—_** he was only halfway to them when he heard the crack of a gunshot and whipping around he realized he hadn’t finished off one of the first guys he’d shot and the guy had fired back in Gavin’s direction, in the direction he’d been, nine seconds ago. The guy probably couldn’t see that he’d moved already. Shit.

 ** _Ten—_** he wouldn’t be able to get back in time and reluctantly, he dropped his pull on the line. Ironically, things moved far quicker after he slowed down. Shots were being fired, threats thrown at him from the remaining two at the front, but Ryan couldn’t help but be distracted by the last man on the ground near Gavin.

The man would have to crawl to get to him, and Gavin had a gun of his own, but after drawing from him twice in so little time, Ryan had no idea how he was physically holding up. He could be passed out, for all he knew.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Ryan dove behind a large bag of weed and coughed when the scent overpowered him for a moment as bullets hit the bag. Like a prairie dog, he popped up for a second to get a good idea of where the fuckers were at, but they had hidden.

He couldn’t risk just pulling at the line again, even though he could still feel that he was connected. Gavin wasn’t dead, at least. Still, a faint memory of Gavin vomiting blood, pale as snow, haunted his thoughts briefly. Michael was going to kill him. Fuck, he was going to have to kill Michael over this.

Popping up once more, he fired a shot to the right and heard a surprised yelp. One in that direction, then. Another shot went off behind him and while he desperately wanted to whip around and end the son of a bitch shooting either at him or his Source, he didn’t couldn’t afford to. Deciding to chance going right, he crouched and kept a lookout as he went. The gunfire ceased for a few seconds, and he couldn’t tell exactly where his enemies were hiding. When he finally reached the right side, he heard a hushed whisper, and pain flared up his forearm.

Hissing, he popped up and strode confidently now, past a crate of bags of weed stacked shoulder high and plastic wrapped together before he found one of them. She only had a second to realize he was there before her brains covered the side of a bag. A rapid fire echoed in response in the warehouse and Ryan was able to pinpoint the last standing asshole back where he’d been, in the middle of the room.

“Ryan?” He heard Gavin call out faintly, and his stomach lurched.

He ran, not caring if the last guy could see him as he did. Gavin had just revealed himself and the fucker was too close, he’d get there before Ryan and Gavin had no idea what had just happened in the last fifteen seconds. Ryan hadn’t come back, like he’d promised. He wanted to tug at the line, just to reassure him that he was there, he was coming, but there wasn’t time and—

Ryan ran into something, toppled backwards onto his side, and his gun slipped from his hands. A small grunt of pain echoed his, and Ryan scrabbled for the gun. When his hands wrapped around it he turned, aimed and almost fired, but scared eyes met his and there was fucking _Gavin_ just sitting on his ass, looking just as surprised.

Gavin raised his gun, and fired four times.

Ryan lurched in surprise and turned to see the last of their enemies fall backwards dead, three holes in his chest and one in his stomach. He took a moment to breathe and then turned back to Gavin, hands still wrapped around the gun he’d been given. His hands were shaking, and whether it was because he was cold and out of energy, or from the adrenaline of the close encounter, Ryan didn’t care.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hissed, spinning back to Gavin, who was getting up off the floor.

“What?” Gavin lowered the gun, face pale, “I just saved your life!”

“You should have stayed in the corner!”

“You never came back!” Gavin countered, “I didn’t know what had happened.”

“Which is why you should have stayed put. You gave away your position the moment you opened your mouth.”

Gavin shook his head. “Michael was right, we’ll never get a bloody ‘thanks for saving my life’ from you. Do you know the words, Ryan? Thank you. It’s what you say when you’re grateful. Have you ever been grateful before?”

“Just, shut up.” Gavin may have been right. He had saved his life, but that was only because Ryan had run into him in the first place. If he’d stayed put, stayed quiet, he could have snuck up on the guy, just like the girl. Instead of logically laying out Gavin’s fault in this incident, he chose to ask instead, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Gavin grumbled petulantly, and Ryan shouldn’t have expected anything different. “Was that all of them?”

“There was one on the floor. I didn’t kill him with the shot.”

“I got him.” Gavin waved and turned in disgust away from the corpse lying behind Ryan. “He nearly clipped me with that shot of his.”

So that had been the second shot.

“Well then, now that we’ve cleared the area of any pests, there’s something I want your opinion on.” Ryan grunted as he got back to his feet and offered a hand out to Gavin. When the Source took it, he steadied the kid on his feet.

Gavin definitely looked a bit worse for wear and would probably sleep it off the rest of the day, but he didn’t look physically injured in any way. Good, Michael shouldn’t be able to bitch. Gavin followed him, swaying a little, but not enough to warrant Ryan steadying him the entire way. Once they reached the entrance to the warehouse, Ryan pushed open the doors and ignored the two sheep that scattered when he did.

Just a small ways away, to the right of the warehouse and away from the street stood a high voltage power line. Pointing up, Ryan turned to Gavin.

“You know what this is?”

“A power line?”

“It’s a high voltage power line. It connects to a substation a few miles from here.”

Gavin blinked at him, uncomprehending.

“How easy would it be to hack into a substation?”

Gavin blinked again. “Why the hell would you…? Never mind. It would depend on their network and who they are affiliated with. I’d have to do some research.”

Ryan hummed. “So it’s doable.”

Gavin shrugged. “Possibly. I need more than a cell phone to—”

“Not you,” Ryan interrupted, “I’ll be using someone else. I just wanted your opinion.”

“Is it Edgar?”

Ryan ignored the question and jerked his head, a signal for Gavin to follow him back to the car. The sheep could eat the weed, for all he cared. He just needed to clear the area of rats. Now that that was done, he could focus on the next task. Ryan paused halfway to the car and turned to look at Gavin for a moment, flicking his eyes between him and the warehouse.

While it was tempting, he’d need to find another to fill the space. Gavin was far more useful at his side than down below, not to mention he’d have to throw Michael in with him, and they were too obstinate to pin them down with threats. Gavin gave him a suspicious look, also looking back at the warehouse, but he didn’t see what Ryan did and continued to follow him back to the car.

“Ryan, you _promised_.” Gavin whined, when they were five minutes away from the warehouse. Ryan had soaked in the ugly greenhouses, and the beautiful countryside, and didn’t have the patience to deal with Gavin.

“Promised what?”

“ _People_.” Gavin enunciated in that stupid accent of his and Ryan resisted the urge to groan. The two of them loved to throw that word at him when they felt he was being unfair. After a month of it Ryan wanted to ban the word from ever being spoken in his presence. “You have to answer questions!”

“I believe the terms were that I asked you questions and got to know you.” Ryan argued. “You like grapes, Michael is better at games than you, you cheat when you want him to pay attention to you, and you think you get away with feeding the stray cats.”

“Who is Edgar?” Gavin asked again, and then pulled Ryan’s phone from his pocket. “We’ve trusted you, so why can’t you trust us? Is he bad? Is he your friend?”

He needed to make a decision, and he needed to make it now. Either he never spoke of Edgar and endured the months of questions, the hacking attempts—although they wouldn’t get far, even if Gavin had years of experience—or he fed them as little truth as was necessary to shut them up and they never brought it up again.

Honestly relief from prying was a bit more valuable than keeping Edgar under wraps. He could use it to his advantage, if he played his cards right.

“Ry- _an_!” Gavin pressed and Ryan sighed.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal. I tell you about Edgar and you don’t say a word to anyone else. You tell Michael, and I’ll know if you do, and I’ll tell him that you can hack.”

“Deal!”

“You still have to tell him,” Ryan added, “because I’m not going to deal with a breakup in the middle of a job. But I’ll play nice and let you pick the right time. You can’t take longer than six months.”

Gavin pouted, put his feet up on the dashboard and poked around at Ryan’s phone some more, but eventually he gave in. “Okay. Who is Edgar?”

He was about to blow Gavin’s mind. How to describe it, though, without giving away too much?

“Edgar isn’t a person, per se. It’s more, uh, a system.” Ryan started, speaking slowly, carefully thinking out each word. “There are thirteen Edgars currently, and each one works as an informant for me. I’ve placed them in many locations, and when I need information from a specific location or area of expertise, I contact them. That’s why they’re numbered.”

Gavin was quiet for a time, clearly processing. “That’s why you wanted to know about the power line.”

Ryan shrugged. “There’s opportunity there.”

“Were there ever any cows?” Gavin asked flatly. “And George?”

“Oh no, all real.” Ryan reassured. “That was the best damn steak I’ve ever had. You don’t forget something like that.”

“You looked at me funny.” Gavin accused. “You were thinking about making me an Edgar!”

Ryan didn’t say anything and his mask hid the amused grin underneath.

“Unbelievable.” Gavin muttered. “You’re a creepy guy, Ryan.”

“The mask didn’t tip you off?”

Gavin laughed, despite being told he’d narrowly escaped a fate of strictly gathering information.

Ryan laughed with him and it felt good, being able to let loose a bit. He hadn’t expected Gavin to pry his secrets open, but he didn’t suspect that he would do anything sinister with them. He had Gavin and Michael pretty well under his thumb and they’d built up a trust system that worked, for the time being. They still didn’t know what he looked like, what his last name was, and an array of other things he had in place in case this partnership went south.

For now, he could laugh.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we've changed the summary on you guys, sorry about that, but I think this one is a bit better.

Ray stared at the screen of the DS in his hands and mindlessly played the handheld game as he lounged on the couch. In the months he had been with the guys he’d gotten through most of his stash of games. There were busy times, but his job consisted of waiting around a lot and not having the hard job of monitoring territory or keeping a presence in the crime game, he had time to spare. It used to be nice, lounging around in a safe location and letting someone else handle things for once, but that quickly grew to be boring and a loneliness he didn’t want to admit had creeped in was starting to get to him.

And now, with the secrets, the whispers, alienation was creeping in alongside it.

He was used to being the person most often overlooked, and usually he worked to keep himself unnoticed. In reality, he was paying close attention to Geoff and Jack. They’d been acting incredibly strange lately and he knew they weren’t telling him everything.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, that first time. But now it had become habit to keep an ear out for his name, for any murmur that hinted information was being passed back and forth between his partners.

The front door opened with a series of beeps, the code having been entered correctly. Jack emerged, dropping a heavy backpack at the entryway with a sigh. The door shut with another beep behind him and Ray straightened up on the couch. He offered a small wave in greeting and pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose.

Jack offered a smile in return. “I’m home.”

“Deal went okay?”

“We got the money,” Jack shrugged, “so I’d say it went over fairly well. Lindsay’s certainly got a knack for negotiating.”

Lindsay was a recent addition, not close enough to be a part of the small circle Ray protected fiercely, but a reliable enough part of the crew that he trusted Jack to go alone to meetings with her. She knew her way around a gun and was even better at talking things out. She was safe, which was all that mattered.

“Where’s Geoff?” Jack asked, “We’ve got some bad news.”

“Think he’s in his office, on the phone. He’s been drinking.” Ray paused his game, furrowing his dark brows when he noticed the stress lines on Jack’s face. “What kind of bad news?”

“He’s always drinking.” Jack reached over the back of the couch and adjusted Ray’s hood. It had been inside out. “Don’t worry; it’s nothing we can’t work out. Some dickheads want the South side, like usual. I almost want to give it up if there’s going to be a fight every week for it.”

The south had a lot of leverage, though, and they both knew it was worth too much strategically to give up on, even if the death toll was rising. Soon, they’d need to move in, set up camp and protect it properly. By the look on Jack’s face, it was going to be soon.

“I’m going to go talk to Geoff. You doing alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jack studied him for a moment and Ray frowned. He couldn’t think of any reason why Jack would be concerned. “You just look a little under the weather.”

“Nah, feeling fine.”

Jack seemed to take his answer and shuffled down a hall toward Geoff’s study. He heard them talk for a bit and the feeling of isolation came back. Frustrated, he tossed his DS aside and thought about marching down the hall, demanding answers because the whispering behind his back was becoming too much.

They were still planning on bringing in that other Source and made up conversations plagued his imagination. They could be trying to retire him in favor of new powers, _better_ powers. Maybe they wanted to split up the team, trade him to the other two Inheritors and see how things worked.

Ray knew how it was going to work. He was going to kill those bastards if anything happened to either of them. And he wasn’t linking up to anyone else, fuck whatever anyone else said. And yet he couldn’t say any of this, couldn’t just demand like a spoiled child that they forget about this vision of opportunity. They needed to expand, logically, if they were going to overcome the two forces gathering against them.

Ray _knew_ that, but just looking at how tired Jack was, how stressed Geoff was about arranging this whole meeting and the offer, what his visions meant, how things had to play out if they wanted the vision to come true… he wanted to wreck the whole thing and trust his own instincts.

Frustration was building again and he stood up, took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that they would understand how he felt, would hear him out like they always had and together they would think of a different plan. But then Geoff and Jack had left the office, crowded themselves into the hall and Geoff had a firm grip on Jack’s hand, leaning close to whisper something that, when Ray chanced a peek, made Jack flush a deep red. Ray frowned, putting the pieces together.

_Oh._

They were _together_.

It took several moments to process and when he got his wits together again Ray pushed down a pang of... something, and shrugged it off. It had to be a recent development, since they had only started acting off a few days ago. Maybe they just needed time to tell him, but if they weren’t going to, that was their deal. He’d thought they were close enough by now to know he could care less that they were gay, though.

The tiny bit of disappointment vanished as Ray’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. It was a text asking for some help on a job, and he hastily replied, shoving the phone back into his pocket. He snatched up his pink rifle, always close enough for him to reach and he heard Jack call out to him as the two entered the living room.

“Where are you going?” Jack asked, still tinged pink.

“Gonna go see a friend. You crazy kids have fun here,” Ray said with a smirk, shouldering his rifle.

He’d gotten far too good at lying to them, though he couldn’t quite keep the edge of bitterness out of his tone. If they noticed, neither said anything about it. Geoff didn’t like him going on jobs outside of being a Source, so it was easiest to just leave that part out. Besides, not many people knew he was a Source, so he could still take regular jobs as a sniper as often as he felt like it. Being able to keep up his reputation was nice; he was useful outside of his magical fucking powers.

As he walked out, Jack shouted after him. “We’re having Chinese, so be home in time for dinner!”

Ray laughed as Geoff shouted in celebration.

“Sure thing, _dad_!”

Walking out of the house, he flipped up his hood, carefully adjusting his rifle. He slipped through the crowd easily; his time in New York had taught him how to handle crowds easily. The rifle stood out, but because of the color, it was easy to excuse it as a paintball gun. Most people were stupid enough to believe it. Those who weren’t were smart enough not to ask questions.

 

* * *

 

In retrospect, he should have known the job had gone too smoothly. He was huddled behind a crate in the back of some alley, bleeding from a shallow cut on his forehead where some asshole had surprised him.

Fucking Source hunters. The remaining pool in the city must be scarce if they were targeting him of all people. While most people didn’t recognize him as a Source, they sure as hell knew he worked for Geoff. And just like they could track him down with a Source of their own, Ray could pick out an Inheritor with his eyes closed and sense a Source blocks away.

He could feel the Inheritor looming, running back and forth through alleys and shouting at curious bystanders. The Source was close by, probably on the roofs to keep an eye out. Fucking shit. He was never taking a job from Fragger ever again.

He didn’t have much time before they eventually pinpointed his location. Options were limited, distraction wasn’t likely to work, he was in too tight of a spot. His best bet was to try and sneak around them, but if they caught sight of him he was toast.

Ray wiped away the blood dripping down his face and it itched. Jack was going to freak, Geoff was going to yell, especially after they found out he’d taken a job. He could always spin a story, it was easy enough. The guilt afterwards usually wasn’t worth getting spared a lecture, however.

Option three presented itself while Ray internally struggled. The Source, an older woman, probably close to fifty, stalked down the alley. She had a gun drawn, but she was alone. Ray grinned, popped out behind the crate, and shot her right between the eyes. He instantly could feel the buzzing of a Source nearby dissipate. The Inheritor would know just as quick, and he could either risk hiding to catch him in the same trap or bolting.

“Chantelle!” came a cry close by and out of time, Ray ducked back down, the barrel of his rifle laid flat against the crate. The second he popped around the corner Ray fired twice, catching the man in the shoulder and the chest.

Ray quickly emerged to finish the kill with another headshot. “Asshole.”

With the danger now gone, Ray let himself breathe and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Briefly he thought about this other Source they were supposed to be taking in. From what Geoff had described of him there was no way he was going to be able to handle a situation like this. Guy would be either be dead or taken the second someone set their eyes on him. It was infuriating to think about. They’d have to go rescue him and put everyone in danger because he wasn’t going to be able to defend himself.

“Pull it together.” He told himself and pulled his hood up, shouldering his rifle once more. “There’s still time to change things.”

 

* * *

  

It had been hours, and while Jack had only good naturedly told Ray to be home in time for dinner, it was near midnight. The texts he’d sent had been largely ignored and that only worried him more. Ray had been distant, quieter than usual. Geoff had no idea what his problem was and Jack could only replay the things he’d done and said to their Source over the past month. He’d been fine, somewhat happy and involved in the business, but then he was withdrawn, asked questions less, spent more time up on his perch watching the perimeter.

He was stressed and Jack had done his best not to pry, to give him space to work through whatever he needed to, but it’d been a month and he could only watch the Puerto Rican pull further away from them.

They needed to talk, he knew they needed to talk, but actually forcing Ray to sit down and tell him what was wrong was honestly a bit intimidating. Ray never gave away personal information, kept things mostly business and safety oriented. They laughed, played games together, but feelings were never involved. The most Jack knew about Ray’s life before their team up was that he’d been a sniper for hire and didn’t like to do a job with the same team more than twice. Trust didn’t come easy, but once it was established there was no tearing away from him.

Geoff and Ray liked to joke about him being the mother hen, but Ray’s hyper focus on keeping an eye out for them was like nothing he’d ever seen. Instead of Ray reporting where he was going to them, it was usually Geoff and Jack who ended up reporting to him.

Maybe there was trauma there, and Jack didn’t want to pry. They were lucky Ray had even joined them in the first place, if they pushed him too much that arrangement could easily be shattered.

And that was the terrifying part, not being able to ask, to mother him the way he complained Jack always did. If Ray thought being told to take medicine, brought blankets after a link when he was cold, or asked opinions on food preference was being mothered, Jack feared what his upbringing was like. There was so much more he could be doing, but having to keep things going, run the operations while Geoff thought of new plans, new ways to avoid being slaughtered by the enemies surrounding him, it left him little time to keep up with Ray.

When the door made a series of beeps and Ray trudged through with blood running down the side of his face Jack’s heart dropped.

“Oh god, what happened?” He surged forward, tugged Ray’s rifle off of his shoulder and tossed it to the floor. He pulled Ray’s hood down and gently lifted his chin so Jack could better see the cut. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, I got ambushed by some fucking Source hunters on my way home.” Ray pushed Jack’s hands away and Jack took a step back to give him some room. “I killed them, don’t worry. I don’t know who they were working for, though.”

“Shit, okay. Sit down, we need to take care of that.”

“It’s not bad, won’t even need stitches.” Ray waved him off and went for the stairs, probably hoping to retreat to his bedroom.

“Ray, please. Just let me clean it up a bit.”

“I can do it, Jack. It’s fine. You should go to bed.”

Jack frowned, heard Geoff at the top of the stairs coming down. Ray stood at the bottom, avoiding looking at either of them.

“Why don’t you have a seat? We need to talk about some things anyway, and Jack can clean you up while we do.” Geoff descended the stairs slowly, dressed in pajamas, but he was starkly sober, voice low and authoritative.

Ray was silent, unmoving. It was clear he was thinking of a way out of it and it only further deepened the worry. Geoff made it to the bottom before Ray could make an excuse and waved him over to the couch. Reluctantly, Ray let go of the handrail and shuffled over to the couch, slumping down.

Immediately Jack was in the kitchen, grabbing a towel and wetting it. By the time he returned Geoff was getting a brief story of the attack. Sitting next to Ray, Jack set to work dabbing at the wound and clearing the dried blood from his face. Ray winced, but otherwise made no complaints.

“They’re getting bolder.” Geoff sighed, “We need to stick together. No more going out alone, any of us.”

Ray opened his mouth to argue, but Jack hummed in agreement and knowing it was two against one, Ray let out a small huff from his nose.

“Now that that’s covered, what the fuck is your deal?”

Jack snapped his attention from Ray’s injury to Geoff, stiffening at the tone. He hadn’t meant to corner Ray tonight, especially after he was attacked. It wasn’t the time and he was about to say something, stop an argument from forming when Ray snapped back.

“The fuck do you mean?”

“The sulking, running off anytime Jack and I are home alone together,” Geoff narrowed his eyes, “looking like we’ve betrayed you somehow, that’s what I mean.”

Ray was quiet, but Jack could tell by the posture change that he was seething. Shit, this was not what they wanted.

“Ray—“ Jack started to say, but Ray cut him off.

“I could ask you the same fucking thing. You two have been keeping shit from me.”

 _Fuck_ , what did Ray think they were hiding? Had he overheard them talking about… it couldn’t be that, they were always careful, never spoke about it unless they were sure they were alone, so it had to be something different.

“You want to elaborate? Because I would love to know what you think we’re hiding.”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be fucking pissed off and _sulking_.” Ray shot back and stood, brushing off Jack.

“Listen, calm down.” Jack tried, and sent a warning look to Geoff. “There is something, but it’s… well we weren’t sure how to tell you.”

“I’m not talking about you being together, Jack.” Ray spoke, but he kept his eyes trained on Geoff. “I couldn’t care less if you fucked, or if you’re in love, or whatever the fuck it is.”

“Then what are you talking about?” Jack asked, trying to emanate calm and collected.

Ray was silent again, weighing options in his head, Jack was sure, and he’d seen that calculated gaze many times when he was trying to judge whether or not to take a shot. Panic started to bite at his insides, if Ray was this worried about whatever it was they were hiding from him—and _fuck_ the only thing he could think of was—

“I overheard you once, after a vision,” Ray spoke slowly, but anger and anxiety dripped from every word. It tore right at Jack’s heart. “you said you saw something else and didn’t want to say anything while I was there.”

Geoff winced and that was entirely the wrong reaction because Ray was moving then, going for his pink rifle again and most likely going to run. Jack reached out at the same time Geoff moved forwards, and they sort of boxed him in.

“Before you freak the fuck out,” Geoff tried to say the at same time Jack pleaded, “Wait, Ray, _please_.”

“Sit down,” Geoff ordered soon after, “so we can talk about it.”

“Am I going to die? Is that why you won’t say anything? If I’m gonna die, just fucking tell me.” Ray’s voice was low, close to a growl, and that was most angry Jack had ever heard from him in the eight months they’d known each other.

“Sit.” Geoff ordered again, hands fisted at his sides. “This isn’t easy to get out, so just sit the fuck down so I can think.”

“You aren’t going to die.” Jack reassured, anxious about how the next words out of Geoff’s mouth were going to be taken. He wasn’t ready—neither of them were ready to divulge this, especially not after not even announcing they were together to Ray.

Ray finally looked at him, and Jack couldn’t help feeling guilty. Ray’s face was waffling between hurt and angry and Jack was scared—terrified—of the next five minutes. Geoff also gave him a look, helpless and stressed and Jack needed to say something, anything to help smooth this over, whether Ray forgave them for keeping it a secret or not.

“We wanted to tell you once we figured it out ourselves, that we were together.” Jack sighed. “We only just got comfortable about it.”

Ray sat back down, slowly, and nodded. Relief came in a small wave, not doing enough to solve the anxiety, but he wasn’t panicking anymore. Whatever happened, they would accept it. Hours of going back and forth with Geoff in the middle of the night, trying to find some solution to this impossible problem…

“I had a vision that Jack and I were going to be lovers a month after you joined us.” Geoff finally spoke, and Jack moved close to him, reached out and grabbed his hand for support, and when Geoff squeezed back it was a relief. “I didn’t tell either of you, just skipped over that part. I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it, and it’s not like I didn’t know, a little bit, but I wasn’t ready to know all of the way, yet.”

Glancing back at Ray, he could see the comprehension, the quiet study of their two figures and Jack tried to change his posture, look a little more confident and a little less like he was about to fall apart. Any emotion had been wiped clean from Ray’s face however, and Jack tried to swallow back his fear.

“I finally got the nerve to say something about it a couple of months ago, when I got a different vision.” Geoff hesitated and Jack reached out to squeeze his hand once more. “Fuck, I really didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to pressure Jack into it, make him feel like he had to love me.”

There was a glimmer then, in Ray’s eyes behind the glasses and faintly Jack hoped it was understanding.

“Oh.” Ray said, and Jack knew he’d figured it out.

“Yeah,” Geoff agreed, “because then I started having visions with you and I knew I was fucked. So I spilled, fucking let it all out and Jack freaked out.”

Jack wanted to argue, but he had to admit that he did, indeed, freak out. It wasn’t a fun couple of weeks sorting out feelings he wasn’t even aware he had. “Well it wasn’t exactly something I knew how to handle.”

“Which is why I didn’t want to tell you.” Geoff wasn’t looking at Ray, looked off to the stairs, instead. “And when you finally told me you were ready, it happened exactly like the vision. And no matter how many fucking times you tell me it’s not because of the vision, Jack, there’s always the doubt. So, you wanted to know what the fuck was up, Ray, there you go. We’re going to be a big gay threesome, saw it in a vision three months ago.”

Jack couldn’t tell what Ray was thinking and he didn’t say a word, so Jack tried to fill in the dead air, tried desperately to convey his side before Ray took off running, because that’s exactly what Jack had done. Had buried himself in work, hadn’t spoken to Geoff for days, tried to play it off like he felt Ray needed to know more about the business, took him with him to meetings, out to check on the territory, hire new recruits.

“We didn’t want to put that on you. It’s stressful and confusing and if it was going to happen we wanted it to be… we wanted you to want it too.” Jack took in a deep breath. “I’ve been where you’re at and we want you to know that it’s not definite. The visions can be changed; you don’t have to love us—”

“I need time.”

“Of course.” Geoff answered immediately, finally spared a surprised glance at the Source still sitting on the couch. “Whatever time you need, even if there’s never an answer.”

And Jack could see it, the small slump in Ray’s shoulders, whether it was relief or grief, Jack couldn’t determine. But Ray got up slowly, didn’t go for his gun, just slowly moved to the stairs and retreated up them to his room.

Geoff’s shaky breathing was the first thing Jack registered after that and he pulled the smaller man into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. We talked about it. Whatever happens.”

“I know,” Geoff just about wailed, face buried in the crook of Jack’s neck, “but I can’t fucking take this. I can’t do this three more times, Jack.”

“Shh,” Jack hushed, and rocked him, pushing his own feelings aside. No matter how he looked at it, Geoff would always have this harder. “You’ve got me. No matter what, Geoff, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, _god_ I love you.” Geoff murmured and Jack whispered it back. “I can’t do this without you, fuck the visions, there’s no way I could do anything without you.”

“I know.” And Jack kissed the top of Geoff’s head. Any doubt he’d ever had about this, about them, were long gone. “But without those visions I don’t know that I’d ever have figured it out.”

Geoff giggled, voice choked up and it came out kind of a like a sob. “I don’t think I would have either. Fuck, what if he hates us now?”

“He won’t.” Jack assured, squeezed Geoff tighter to him, but he had no way of knowing it was true, just a hope that he was right. Ray was sensible, he was kind and protective. But he was also hurt by the secrets and Jack couldn’t deny him the time it took to heal from it. “Give him space, wait for an answer.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sorry guys! Life really caught up to me last week and so the chapter was delayed. We're both trying our best to stick to schedule, so real sorry about that! This chapter officially marks the end of the set-up period! FINALLY we are getting to what we both have been looking forward to, so please enjoy!

With a frustrated groan, Michael threw the controller aside, hearing it thunk on the couch. Playing single player was boring, they didn’t have internet in this shithole to play online or even to just surf the internet, and they were finally out of beer. Worry was an itch underneath skin he couldn’t scratch at, only fueling his restlessness. He couldn’t get comfortable on the couch; laying down, standing up, sitting cross legged on the floor, he couldn’t settle in a spot for more than ten minutes.

Dark had settled in and Michael hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on yet. The glow from the television was enough to keep him from running into things as he made his way back and forth from the kitchen to the living and back again. Pacing agitated his ribs, but he didn’t give a shit. Ryan promised they’d be back, safe and sound, but it’d been hours and Gavin was  _ annoying _ . The chances that Ryan had killed him just to get him to shut up were high. Then again, it was also pretty likely that Ryan had just killed himself to get away.

With a frustrated sigh, Michael took to cleaning. Beer bottles lined the far wall of the living room, and pennies, nails, and small rocks lay scattered around them. It was a pastime they had taken to when Ryan took over the Xbox and they weren’t allowed to watch, — they may have been a bit obnoxious when he lost — trying to bounce small objects into the beer bottles. They only succeeded a handful of times, as evidenced by the scattering of sharp and painful things to step on.

It hurt way more than he expected to bend over and pick up the bottles. His side flared with every movement, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d bust his stitches. Cursing, he ignored it and gathered the bottles in hand, tossing them into the garbage. Who didn’t even have a fucking recycling bin? All his life he’d been sorting trash and recyclables and here Ryan was with his barbaric trash can guzzling plastic and glass along with everything else. They weren’t good people, but it didn’t take much to fucking recycle.

Michael grimaced and grabbed the broom stored between the fridge and the alcove wall it sat in. He was in the process of sweeping up the shit on the floor when he heard something.

Voices, soft and murmuring, carried through the walls of the house and Michael took a deep breath, relieved. Ryan and Gavin, returning from wherever the fuck they’d gone.

Broom still in hand, Michael took three steps toward the door, ready to wrench it open and yell at them for being so damn late when it burst open, slamming against the wall with a crack. It swung back to close but someone kicked it again, and Michael saw one of the hinges break, causing the door to lean awkwardly. Whoever was in the doorway was definitely  _ not _ Gavin and Ryan, and it only took Michael a split second to grab his gun, lying casually on the couch for exactly this reason.

One shot got the one who kicked in the door but two more surged forward, dressed in dark colors. It was clear they were having as much trouble seeing him as he was them, and he was able to duck behind the television when a series of shots rang out through the house and the sharp sound of glass breaking echoed after. Lunging made his side feel like it’d been ripped in half, and Michael tried not to cry out. The wet blood seeping into his shirt only confirmed that he’d ripped his stitches.

Fuck, Gavin was going to whine. As if it wasn’t hard enough to sit still while Ryan sewed him up in the first place, sitting through another session of Gavin stitching him up was going to be the fucking worst. Maybe he could gross Gavin out enough that Ryan would just give up and do it himself.

Or maybe he was going to die in this fucking shithole because Ryan needed Gavin for whatever the fuck he had planned and of course they couldn’t take him. No, poor Michael was too injured to fucking sit in the car- like they had  _ fucking  _ done with Gavin when they bought the guns and met with the fence. 

No, Ryan was adamant that Michael needed to stay, watch the money, and rest up because they still needed to get his guns back. They both  _ promised _ nothing was going to happen, just needed to check up on something that they couldn’t tell him for whatever bullshit reason.

Anger overrode pain, and as soon as one of them stepped close enough, he shot them right in the fucking face. Hearing a shout of rage, the last attacker tackled him to the floor; if he hadn’t ripped his stitches earlier, landing on his side sure did the trick. Pain exploded up his chest and side and it took him a moment to feel anything else. Next he knew he was face first into the floor, struggling against hands trying to pull his gun away from him. With a snarl, Michael elbowed the fucker right in the throat. Immediately they were off of him, coughing and sputtering. He spun around and punched, splitting his knuckles again too, and there was no way in hell Ryan wasn’t going to make Gavin do those ones. His assailant went down, but not out, so Michael punched them one more time in the nose. And again, just to be sure.

Sides heaving for breath, he pushed the pain down and took hold of his gun, rising to his feet with a grunt. Fuck, this was  _ not _ what he needed. Quietly, he sidled to the wall, eyes squinting in the dark now that the only light source was a mangled piece of broken glass and plastic. Over his heavy breathing, he couldn’t hear anyone else, but that didn’t mean shit. Barefoot, he took a chance and crept outside. His feet made next to no noise as he padded around the yard, poked his head carefully around every corner, and then stood far enough back to check that no one was on the roof.

Michael scanned the street, counting cars. Satisfied that no one else was creeping around to murder him, he crept back into the house, not bothering with the mess that was the front door. 

Flipping on the light, he took in the sight of the trashed living room. The couch had bullet holes in it now, and that was going to be a bitch to sleep on now. Bits of cushion took the place of the pennies and rocks and glass from the television had scattered along the hardwood. Michael sighed. Picking up the broom, he swept the glass away from his path and checked on the bodies.

Well, two of the bodies. The last one was still alive, likely down for the next couple of hours but still breathing. Blood soaked into the kitchen, and that was also going to be a bitch to clean. He bet  Ryan would know how to get it out of the tiles, at least. Creepy bastard definitely knew how to get blood out of almost anything.

“You fuckers owe me a TV and a couch.” He grumbled, and the pain was back in full force. He groaned and palmed at his side, grimacing when he felt just how much his side had bled. He needed to take care of this last one, though; a guy, now that Michael could actually see him. The one he shot in the face was female, the dead one by the door, male. Their clothing was dark, but plain. Reaching through pockets, Michael couldn’t find anything indicative of gang life. Whoever they were, they’d find out when the last one of them woke up.

Kicking the unconscious asshole over, Michael ripped up the bottom of the guy’s shirt. Using the strip of fabric, he pulled the guy’s arms behind his back and tied his hands together as best he could. He didn’t want to trudge down to the basement to find some rope if he could help it.

Standing back up after that was the worst idea, he decided. Ever. As he blinked away the vertigo as he staggered into the couch, he sat his ass down. Fuck it, Ryan and Gavin could deal with this shit when they got home, he wasn’t going to move ever again. He could feel that he was still bleeding—all over the couch now but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He sat on the couch, bleeding, for an indeterminate amount of time before a car pulled into the driveway. He may have passed out, but he was so groggy he couldn’t tell. Muscles tense and keeping a hand on his gun, he waited, slumped low on the couch so he could jump up and surprise anyone else who thought they could just waltz right in and shoot him.

“Okay, but what do they do all day? Do you feed them?”

Oh thank fuck, that was Gavin. With a small sigh of relief, Michael winced as he adjusted his position, throwing a leg over the arm of the couch. The least he could do was pose like a badass when they walked into the mess he’d had to take care while they were gone.

“Gavin,  _ shut up _ .” Low, authoritative, cautious—Ryan must have noticed the front door.

“The door—” Gavin’s cut off with a high pitch squeal of some sort. Ryan might have pushed him, hit him maybe.

Careful footsteps, quiet and slow, approached the doorway. “Michael?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Michael waved a hand over the back of the couch and a second pair of footsteps entered, hurried. Gavin leaned over the back of the couch, eyes wide and face pale.

“Christ, what happened?!”

Michael shrugged, but once again winced when the action pulled at his side. “Some of the neighbors stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood. Wanted to drop off a pie.”

“Shit, boi, you’re bleeding!” Gavin came around the side of the couch, kneeling in front of him and suddenly the badass pose he’d been in wasn’t worth the discomfort, so he pulled his leg off of the arm of the couch. Gavin’s hands were on him, pulling his shirt up to take a look at his side. “Aw, Michael, you’ve done a right job on Ryan’s handiwork. And mine!”

“Yeah, well, if the two people I trusted to have my back were actually here instead of fucking off to wherever, maybe my stitches would be fine.” He couldn’t help snarling. “Sure took your time coming back.”

“Is this all of them?” Ryan asked, gun in hand and leaning over the couch where Gavin had been previously.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Michael rolled his eyes and batted Gavin’s hands away when the Brit looked a bit ill. “You’re welcome, too, by the way. Your precious cash is fucking safe.”

“Michael,” Ryan’s tone was warning, but Michael didn’t give a fuck. “did they say anything?”

“That one’s alive.” Michael jerked his head in the direction of the asshole by couch. “He’ll fucking talk as soon as he swallows the teeth I punched in and wakes up.”

A gloved hand rested on his shoulder and Michael shrugged it off. He never expected Ryan to actually give a fuck about them, and it was kind of irritating when he pretended to now. Gavin was the valuable one, and Ryan could pretend all he wanted with him, but Michael didn’t want false niceties. He knew that for Ryan, the sooner he was out of picture, the better. Then Ryan could bully Gavin all he wanted without being called out on being the asshole he was.

“You did good.”

Michael snorted. “I know how to defend myself. Thought that was obvious after yesterday.”

Ryan didn’t say anything after that, not that Michael expected him to acknowledge him twice for kicking ass. One and done, with this guy. Gavin swallowed back a gag in front of him and turned to Ryan, reaching out for him. Something about that was weird, too familiar and close.

“You have to redo the stitches. He’s bleeding a lot.”

“No,” Ryan answered, leaning down inspect their prisoner, “that’s your job now.”

“Wha—but—“ Gavin sputtered and Michael sighed. Maybe this time Gavin wouldn’t vomit after he was done. Glancing down at the blood, Michael changed his mind, Gavin was definitely going to throw up. Probably before, halfway through, and after. “Where are you going?”

Ryan had grabbed a hold of the asshole lying unconscious in the living room by his legs. “He’s going to wake up and I’m going to ask him a few questions. We’ll be down in the basement. There’s more to work with down there.”

“Ugh,” Gavin held a fist to his mouth and gagged, “Ryan, why?”

“He needs to find out who just attacked me, dumbass. Get the needle already. I’m bleeding out here.” Michael reached out and shoved at him, nearly knocking Gavin into Ryan, who was calmly dragging the body across the floor toward the basement door.

“Oh god, this day is too much.” Gavin mumbled, and stumbled into the bathroom to get the medkit.

When he came back they both looked in Ryan’s direction as he propped the door to the basement open. The dull thunks of the prisoner’s head hitting each stair on the way down were unpleasant, even if Michael did feel it was rightly deserved. Cold hands pushed at Michael’s shirt and obeying a wordless command, Michael held it up as Gavin wiped away blood with a towel. Gavin was sat on the floor eye level with the wound. Michael could see the worry, but he couldn’t find it in himself to reassure Gavin that he was fine. He wasn’t fine, he was still pissed off, and he was in pain. It was just about all he could do not to snap at him.

“Where did you guys go?”

Gavin stopped trying to thread the needle for a moment and Michael could see the panic in his eyes for a moment before they clouded over with false confidence. He wasn’t a complete idiot, he usually could tell when Gavin lied.

“He brought us to a farm. A farm, Michael!” Gavin put the needle down, apparently giving up on threading it to tell him the story instead. “There were cows, sheep, and horses. He just sat us on the top of this hill to watch them. And then he tells me that George—he’s the farmer—was nice to him once.”

Michael’s face must have betrayed the absolute absurdity of that last sentence because Gavin nodded, looking equally confused and doubtful.

“I know, I don’t believe him either. He’s creepy, Michael. But someone killed George and he was upset, so we killed them all.” Gavin shrugged and picked up the needle again. “He wanted to use speed so we did a bit of that. Worked really well, I’m not even that tired.”

“A farm.” Michael repeated, voice flat. There was no way in hell that story was real.

“A farm.” Gavin repeated, and cursed when he pricked his finger on the needle. “This is bloody impossible.”

“Bullshit.”

“You give it a go, then.” Gavin held the needle out to him, thread in the other hand. “I’m telling you, it’s harder than you think.”

“No, the farm. Bullshit. Where did you really go?”

Gavin frowned, pulling the needle back close to his face. He jabbed the piece of thread at it a few more times before he finally got it, tying it off. Only then, did he answer. “I’m not taking the piss, it was a bloody farm. There were sheep and horses and cows, all just prancing about. Did you know Ryan used to be a country boy? Do you reckon he rode horses?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m not fucking stupid, Gavin.”

“I’m not lying, Michael!” Gavin huffed at the same time a scream of agony echoed the house. 

“Oh god.” Gavin looked like he wanted to bolt, when Michael cut in.

“Just ignore it.”

Another scream, louder this time brought Gavin to scoot a little closer to Michael, practically between his legs at this point. “I wish he wouldn’t do that.”

“You know how this works.” Michael muttered, and finally felt the stinging pain of needle threading through skin again. “Don’t change the subject, either. If you aren’t lying, then you’re leaving something out. There’s no reason why I couldn’t have come with you.”

Gavin sighed. “We went over this before we left. I don’t know why you’re being such a mingepot about this. I’m sorry we weren’t here to help you.”

“It’s not just about being left behind, Gavin,” Michael spoke low, soft almost, “you were being clingy yesterday too. Went into the bedroom and didn’t come out for a while.”

Michael could see the flush coming over his face and neck. “I… I was just offering a massage.”

“What?”

“Well—damn it, sorry—“ Gavin struggled to get the needle through the last bit of the wound, “he was limping. Turns out his kickback is cramps, so I thought it’d be nice. He’s been nice lately, so…”

Michael tried to wrap his head around it. Gavin deliberately noticed a limp, barged into the Vagabond’s personal space to ask him about it, and then when given the answer that Ryan had leg cramps from using his power, Gavin thought it was completely logical to offer up a massage. It started as a snicker, a smile curling onto his lips before Michael lost it. Gavin tied off the thread, wiped the blood on his hands on the towel, and opened his mouth to say something, probably tell Michael to stop laughing, but instead he ran to the bathroom and Michael only laughed harder. His ribs and side protested but he couldn’t stop, especially when after another agonized scream floated up from the basement, he heard more retching.

What an absolute moron. Michael didn’t know why he was worried at all. Fuck being jealous, Gavin just once again had zero sense of danger. He fucking—he fucking offered a massage to 

Ryan, who had just stopped acting like they were a plague upon his very being. If Ryan took Gavin up on the offer Michael had no idea how he managed to get through it. Gavin’s hands were always cold, always. It was the absolute worst for a massage and the guy had so little muscle on him that his version of a massage was probably just a light rub down.

By the time Gavin came back, wiping away the tears that usually came with spewing, Michael was also wiping away trails of tears down his cheeks from laughing so hard.

“Michael, it’s not funny. I was just trying to be nice.”

“You’re so dumb, Gavin.” Michael smiled, and held his hand out. “Gotta get these ones too.”

Gavin groaned and picked up the needle, heading into the kitchen to fill up a bowl of water. While the bowl was heated in the microwave, Gavin returned to wipe at the blood caked on his knuckles.

“Michael, you’re being strange today, Michael.”

“Could say the same about you.” Michael shook his head and waited for Gavin to come back.

Another scream, long and high pitched caused Gavin to gag again. On his way back with the bowl of water, Gavin took a small detour to close the door to the basement. Hopefully that would dampen the sound, allow them a little peace of mind. As soon as Gavin sat back down on the floor, the door swung open again and Ryan, blood on his shirt and gloved hands, kicked the doorstop back into place.

“I can’t see with it closed.” He explained, voice light and airy. He wasn’t happy, per se, but it was an unnerving contrast to what they both knew he was doing down there. “He’s close to cracking, so bear with it.”

Michael took in Gavin’s horrified expression and tried to conceal his own. He wasn’t a stranger to torture, been around it for a couple years when he was back in gang life. The blood didn’t bother him, the violence didn’t either, but the easy way Ryan handled it…

The rumors all said he was a mad man, didn’t cooperate with others and was quick to turn his back on anyone he did work with. Gavin and Michael had experienced a very different person in the month they’d spent with the man. He was tidy, but he moved slowly when around the house. He was lethargic half of the time, paced at night, and was constantly worried about security. He was quick to violence to get what he wanted, but when it became obvious he couldn’t use that against Gavin and Michael he’d taken to arguing with logic. Which, against Gavin, really had no chance of success.

Ryan was growly, but on occasion he was agreeable. He let them be even when they were annoying. He hid behind that stupid mask, but his voice was deep and soothing, sometimes, when he explained things to Gavin. Michael didn’t care to interact much if he didn’t have to.

The stark difference of the rumors to the guy they had come to know, come to trust, was enough that they had waved the rumors off. He was deadly; he was scary as fuck when angry, but a mad man? A guy who, according to Gavin, hung out with a farmer and watched cows and sheep?

Another scream echoed and Michael shivered a bit, wincing when Gavin’s shaky hands dried the needle and began to re-thread it through his busted knuckles. Maybe the rumors weren’t so far off. They had narrowly avoided a fate like the guy in the basement. They were lucky Gavin was useful, that somehow they had managed to bargain their way into a semi-normal life, even if it was still like being held prisoner.

Gavin finished sewing up his hand and after cleaning the bowl in the kitchen, promptly went to hide in the bathroom, far away from the torture. Michael just leaned back against the bullet ridden couch. They were going to have to move, he realized. The house was in shambles, and there was no way Ryan was going to allow them to stay in a compromised safe house. A glimmer of hope sparked through him. They could leave this shithole behind and get something decent. They had plenty of money from the heist, the assassination. Between the two they could just buy outright a decent fucking place. 

Gavin returned, shuffling slowly and slumping on the couch with a small moan, arm around his stomach. “This is awful.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got some good news.”

Gavin turned his head, furrowed his brows quizzically. “What?”

“We’re moving.” Michael couldn’t help the grin. “This place is compromised. Someone tried to kill us and there’s no way we’re staying here.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, Gavin’s face filled with joy. “A real house, with a washer and dryer.”

“Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.” Michael added.

“With internet!”

“ _ Two _ rooms at least. No more sleeping on the couch bullshit.”

“New couch, new telly, new bed. Central heating.”

Michael grinned. “Getting almost killed was the best thing to fucking happen to us, Gavvers.”

“I’m sorry, boi, but I agree.”

Ryan trudged up the stairs, hands wrapped in some sort of towel. His shoulders were tense, and despite the light attitude he’d had in the midst of the torture session, he radiated stress. Tossing the towel to the ground in the middle of the hall, he made his way to the two of them. Michael straightened up immediately, ignoring more protests from his ribs.

“We’ve got a problem.”

Oh,  _ fuck. _ Dreams of a new home shattered and thoughts of worst case scenarios ran through his head. They would probably be stuck on the run, crammed in some SUV as they relocated to a new city. Or, alternatively, Ryan didn’t like who was after them and Michael wouldn’t be making the cut. He really only needed Gavin and Gavin would fight, would do his best to keep him alive, because that was part of the deal but Gavin would just have to suck it up. He’d probably mourn Michael’s death, but eight months isn’t that long, he’d find someone else.

Maybe fucking Ryan, if the Stockholm syndrome got to him.

Maybe Ryan would kill Gavin too, cut all ties to the city to find a new city to terrorize.

“These guys were sent by Ramsey.”

“What the fuck? Why?” And okay, that wasn’t nearly as bad he thought. They were planning on attacking him anyway, but if the rumors about  _ him _ were true and he was getting the first strike, he knew they were coming.

Ryan shrugged. “Apparently they just took the orders, didn’t ask questions. They weren’t a part of his crew, just hired thugs.”

“Wha—but—were they after all of us or just you?” Gavin sputtered. “Does he know about me and Michael?”

“I’ve got a location, what price was put on my head, and a name. Not exactly much, but he  cracked quick.” Ryan crossed his arms, and it helped conceal a little of the blood on his shirt and jacket. Michael hadn’t exactly inspected him for blood when he got back, so how much of that was old he didn’t know. “What do you know about Ramsey?”

“We told you everything at the pizza shop.” Michael reminded. “I don’t have shit on him, didn’t even know where to look for him. But if he’s attacked us first, this is bad.”

“He knows we were gonna go after him.” Gavin sighed, held his head in his hands. “Michael, I don’t like this.”

“He had a message for us.” Ryan added, and Michael wondered irately why he hadn’t spoken up about that before. “This is an invitation of challenge. He’s looking down on us, sending some kids off of the street at us.”

“So we move, right? I know we were planning to get Michael’s guns back but—”

“Yes, Gavin,” Ryan spoke slowly, his tone dipped two octaves and Michael could hear the Vagabond slipping back in, “we’re going to be moving into his place. It’s going to need a bit of redecorating. How do you feel about the color red?”

“Christ, you’re bloody creepy, Ryan.” Gavin muttered, shivering a bit next to him. Michael grabbed his jacket from the floor and handed it to him. “Can’t we just say ‘no thanks’ and move somewhere nice? Michael, we can just buy you some more new guns.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if you’re seeing what I’m seeing, Gav, but there’s no fucking way Ryan’s just gonna let this go. Look at him. He did who knows what to that guy down there and he’s pissed the fuck off. Plus, he tried to kill me!”

Michael tried to contain the bit of fear creeping up. They were trying to ignore the obvious aura of murder radiating off of their companion, but it was obvious Ryan wasn’t really listening to them.

“Pack your stuff, we’re leaving.”

There wasn’t any stuff left for them to pack. Just about anything they salvaged from Michael’s apartment was caked in blood and dirty. The shit they’d stolen to make life a little more worth living in this shitty place was riddled with bullets. Ryan seemed to get the hint when the two of them just looked back at him. Ryan, however, grabbed the duffle bags on top of the refrigerator and shoved one each at the two of them. Then he stalked down to the basement and came up with guns in hand.

“Let’s go.”

He ordered, and reluctantly Michael was helped off of the couch to help load things into the car outside. Not everything would fit, but Gavin did end up with a lot of guns across his lap and explosives at his feet. The Brit was pale and now wrapped up in Michael’s jacket. The money was safely concealed in the trunk with a few of the larger explosives and Ryan’s mini gun.

“We’re not attacking tonight.” Michael stated, practically a demand. He could tell Gavin had used some energy and he was in a sorry state. “There’s no fucking way either of us would survive. We have no plan, I’m beat to hell, and Gavin’s not going to last ten minutes with a link.”

“I know.” Was all Ryan responded with and Michael glared out the window.


	13. Chapter 13

Ray adjusted his grip on the sniper rifle, shifting his weight. His knees were beginning to hurt in his crouched position on the concrete roof, but he ignored it to focus on the four door car drifting around the corner, wheels squealing as it came to a stop.

“Incoming.”

_“Right on time. Three of em?”_

“Yeah,” Ray responded as three men exited the car. One had an armful of sticky bombs and the other two, armed with guns, took off in Ray’s direction. “Vagabond has stickies. He's placing them on the north wall. The other two are headed my way, what do you want me to do?”

_“Keep us posted, but don't shoot. They're gonna split up again when the Vagabond comes back.”_

_“Ray, be careful.”_ Jack warned. _“There's still no guarantee that they will cooperate.”_

“Yeah, I got it.” The second anything went outside the vision, Ray had a bullet for each of them. He kept his eyes trained on the two closest to him, but the Vagabond caught his attention when he lugged a mini gun with him on his way to them. “He's rejoining the others. They’re taking cover at the south door.”

The ground shook as a large explosion rocked the building, dust and smoke mixing together. He could hear them talking below, but he was too far away to make out any words. The Vagabond was pushing one of them, slender, dirty blonde, behind a stack of crates. Another crate, half opened and full of packing peanuts provided more cover, effectively boxing him in. The hidden one looked to be arguing about being left behind, but after a moment retreated to his hiding place as the other two kicked in the door and entered the building. By the faint buzzing in his head, Ray realized he was left to stare at the Source of the group.

“They left the Source outside. Are these guys serious?”

_“It’s all part of the plan. Keep him pinned, Ray. We’re about to get loud in here, so keep the line up.”_

“Vagabond’s got a mini gun.” Ray warned, eyes narrowed on the Source fidgeting with his gun in the shadowed corner he was huddled in. “Not sure what the range of the Source is. Let me know when the lines are cut.”

 _“Will do.”_ Jack replied.

Ray had the option of just killing him, claim that the guy saw him and had fired. Self defense and all that, but the way he was just left in shoddy cover with just a gun with no other order than to stay put kind of made Ray pity him. Disgust festered in his stomach, the plan these assholes had was so obvious it hurt. He knew they had to be pissed by the preemptive strike at their safehouse, but two days was surely enough time to plan something more than the simplest distraction.

Geoff had seen them busting in with guns and angry eyes, but he hadn’t seen their powers. It was possible that leaving the Source behind was more of a safety precaution for themselves than from any danger inside. Either way, they were playing a dangerous game. He could hear the gunfire inside the hangar. It was really kicking off inside, and in a minute Ray knew he’d feel a hard tug on his line. His index finger toyed with the trigger, anxious for this shit to be over already. For weeks there had been nothing but talks of this team up, what it would mean for them in the future. Geoff’d practiced his speech a thousand times in the last week alone.

Ray was tired of waiting.

And then there was a hard tug at the line. Ray held it as steady as he could, mentally keeping track of how long it was up and the rate at which it drained him. The negotiation could have lasted hours if they had taken their Source with them, but with him out here, the clock was ticking.

Jack’s voice filtered through, gunshots crackling in with his voice; _“Ray, the line’s been cut, don’t let him move!”_

Sure enough, just as Jack relayed the information, the Source in the corner peeked his head up, frown evident on his face. He crept out of his hiding spot, looking here and there before darting to the door of the building. Ray put a shot just past the Source’s head into the busted door, and the guy stopped so fast his feet slipped out from underneath him and he fell on his ass. With a bit of a vindictive smirk, Ray fired again, close to the man’s feet. Scrambling back, the guy scrambled for his shelter again.

It was time to move, then. The Source would find his location in a minute, and he had his own gun, despite Ray’s doubts that he really knew how to use it. The Source looked nervous just holding the thing, and Ray could spot someone without experience a mile away.

Rifle still targeted on the unfortunate Source, Ray moved to the ladder to climb down. It didn’t take long to descend and the guy was nice enough to stay tucked away, probably in an attempt to shoot him as soon as he came into sight. A pity, since Ray never intended to get that close. No, he was fine waiting out in the open, rifle trained on the space between crates.

“Just come out, I’m not looking to play around today.” He called.

“What _bloody_ for?” Came the reply. “Not looking for extra holes, sorry!”

“Not here to kill you, though I should, since you can’t say the same.”

There was silence for a minute, before slowly, a head peeked out from between the crates, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re a Source?”

Ray wanted to roll his eyes. At least he could recognize another Source, though it took him forever to realize. The buzzing had been going on for a while now.

“So are you.”

And then, as confusing as it was, the guy fucking _smiled_. “It’s great to finally meet another one. It’s a bit lonely without anyone who understands—”

Ray fired a warning shot into the crate. “Yeah, not here to make friends, asshole.”

“Bloody hell, alright!” the guy flinched, pulling his head back behind cover. “I’m Gavin, by the way! Least you could do is tell me your name!”

“Not gonna happen.” Ray growled. “You might as well toss the gun. I saw how you were handling it, you’re probably gonna shoot yourself before you land a hit on me.”

Gavin grumbled something, but he did toss the gun to the ground next to himself. “Will you at least stop shooting now?”

“Depends on how much you talk.”

“What are you here for then, if you aren’t gonna kill me?”

Ray sighed. “You know, I had my doubts, but you guys are fucking idiots. Did you even try to plan this out?”

“What are you on about?”

“Are you serious? They just left you out here. You’re technically dead.” Ray sneered. “One fucking bullet and it’s all over. Not to mention you’re out of range. You realize you have a range, right?”

There was a beat of silence, then, “Yes.”

Ray didn’t believe it for a second. He took way too long to answer.

He’d tried to keep a clear head. He had a lot going on—keeping a lookout for this asshole, keeping an eye on the other assholes, keeping the line steady, listening for any sort of distress coming from the radio—but rage was sweeping in so fast he could hardly think straight. How incompetent could one guy be? The stress of trying to balance two lines was enough to make Ray want to scream. The anxiety of those fucking Source hunters finding them, breaking in to take him to god knows where, hurting Geoff and Jack was enough to kill sleep for him. Nights upon nights he spent up on the roof, surveying their territory, accompanying Jack everywhere just to make sure that the only two Inheritors he trusted not to fuck him over were safe.

And this asshole didn’t even know he needed to stay close to an Inheritor. He probably slept like a fucking rock, probably had no idea that there were people who would hunt him down and force him to feed them energy until he was a pile of seizing goo on the floor. Ray was right, he’d always been right. No one was going to take the safety of the team as seriously as he was. He wasn’t going to be able to trust them, _especially_ when the other two had left this idiot by himself. If Ray had been anything like Gavin, he’d have cut off their balls the second they tried to leave him unprotected. But he could at least shoot, had the skills necessary to live out on the streets, survive an attack. Gavin was lucky he’d survived this long.

“Oh my god, dude. How are you even still alive?” Ray lowered his rifle out of disbelief. “Did you figure out you were a Source just fucking yesterday?”

“No!” came the indignant answer, “What’s it any of your business anyway?”

“Because my idiots think teaming up with you idiots is a grand fucking plan. Obviously it’s better to just end the threat here and now. You can’t shoot, you have no idea how being a Source works,” Ray paused, lowered his voice into a snarl, “and I’ll bet you think you’re actually safe with them. You think they aren’t just going to ditch you the second you stop being useful to them. Got news for you, you’re dead the second you turn around and they aren’t there to protect you.”

“What do you know?” Gavin snapped back. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know they left you here with nothing but a gun, which you can’t even hold properly.” Ray raised his rifle again. “Can you even do anything useful?”

“You’re a right bitch, aren’t you? This isn’t how you ask someone to team up.”

“I’m not asking. I’d rather shoot you.”

Gavin poked his head out again, anger clear as day on his face. “Then why don’t you? You answer to Ramsey, right? He won’t let you.”

“I don’t know if you got lucky or unlucky having the Vagabond at your back,” Ray started, “but I wouldn’t count on him saving your ass for much longer. We work as team here. Everyone has a job to do and no one slacks off. If, by some miracle, Geoff is right and you three take the deal, you better find something to be fucking useful at.”

_“You doing alright, Ray?”_

“Fine.” Ray bit out, feeling the effects of the draw now that his anger settled a bit. He was beginning to feel light headed and even without the buzzing, it was starting to get a little hard to concentrate on both Gavin and the line.

 _“Almost done in here. They’re proving to be… difficult. Geoff’s doing his best but_ _—_ _”_

“We’re better off without them.”

_“Are you hurt? Five more minutes, that’s all we need and we’ll come get you.”_

“I’m not hurt, Jack,” Ray ground his teeth together, eyes still locked with Gavin’s. “Just tell Geoff to hurry up. I’m tired of babysitting.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine.” Gavin frowned, and Ray twitched at the choice of words. “Why would you want to team up with us, anyways? You don’t know us. You tried to kill us the other day!”

“Geoff is giving his speech to the other two. They can tell you.” Ray hoped it would end the conversation, but Gavin decided to prattle on anyways.

“So you sent someone to kill us just to invite us here to try and team up? Sounds a bit complicated. What if we really had died? Then you wouldn’t have been able to even meet with us. And you’ve gone and pissed Ry—the Vagabond off, doing that. He’s not very good at listening when he’s mad. Michael’s planning and blowing up your warehouse, too.”

Placing his free hand to the headset, he said, “Jack, they’ve got bombs with them.”

Gavin frowned harder, if that was possible, and Ray only just really noticed his nose. Jack’s voice came through the headset once more, calm and collected.

_“They’re on their way back. Get out of there.”_

“Finally.” Ray muttered, and fired twice at the crate again. Gavin, as predicted, squeaked and hid behind them again. It gave Ray enough time that he could climb back up the ladder on the building opposite the hangar, back where he’d set up extra rounds if needed. He managed to step foot onto the roof before a shot was fired. Cursing, he dove to the ground, using the foot of lip on the roof as cover. A shower of bullets rained after that, and the loud whirr of the minigun signaled the return of the Vagabond.

What a bitch. Gavin had someone as dangerous and notorious as the Vagabond somewhat keeping an eye out for him and he thought he was set for life. Whether Ray had to suck up a team up or not, he was going to put a bullet into Gavin. One for every hardship Ray had suffer through while Gavin ignorantly sat about, pretending everything was fine.

Fuck that guy.

_“Ray, you okay? You can drop the line.”_

Right. He’d forgotten about that. Letting it go, he blinked up at the sky, squinting at the sun peeking through a cloud. In broad daylight, too. These idiots had no fucking idea what they were doing. He could only imagine what the conversation inside had been like.

“I’m fine, Jack. You?”

_“We’re both fine. Not totally sure that the plan worked, but we did our best. The rest is up to them.”_

“I hope they say no.”

 _“Quit whining, Ray. It wasn’t that bad.”_ Geoff scolded. _“We need this to work out. You haven’t seen what I have.”_

“Yeah, because those visions always come true, right?” Ray glared as he heard the three get back into their shitty car with their extra shitty Source. “Craig is still alive.”

_“Because we listened to the visions and saved his life. I don’t know what your problem is, but we’ll talk about it at home.”_

Great, he’d gone and pissed Geoff off . Oh well, it was going to come out sooner or later. Lately, with the whole visions of their _love_ thing, the three of them had been on edge. He thought maybe he could just ignore it, pull a Jack and take some time to figure shit out. It wasn’t hard to talk to them less, focus more on work instead. But then Geoff had another vision and he fucked up by not telling them it was a bad idea to try and force the team up early.

Not that they’d listen. Geoff’s had his heart set on these three in particular. His visions said so, so obviously it was meant to be. Fuck the visions. The unease swirling around his heart only tightened. He was being forced into a team up—maybe, if he hadn’t done enough damage to Gavin’s precious feelings—but he wouldn’t be forced into a relationship.

He hadn’t thought about it enough, hadn’t even figured out if he was gay. Fuck, he hadn’t even thought about sex in months, let alone anything romantic. It was entirely too fucking much. He needed a break. From thinking about this stupid team up, thinking about Geoff’s visions, thinking about love in general.

Jack’s head peeked around the lip of the roof and Ray hadn’t realized how long he had been just staring up at the sky. “Ray, seriously, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. Let’s just go home.”

“Ray—”

“Jack,” Ray interrupted, and sat up, adjusting his glasses. He pulled his hood up, a clear sign that he didn’t want to talk, and collected the rounds he left.

Jack took the hint and climbed back down, but not without sending once last glance of worry. Ray let out a soft sigh as he watched him go. It was all too fucking much right now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Geoff fidgeted on top of the box truck he was seated upon. This was exactly like the vision, he was seated here, Jack was standing next to him, shotgun in hand. Not the best choice if things went to shit, but it was what he’d seen in his vision, so a shotgun it was. Ray was outside within range and linked up already to Jack. Everything was meticulously placed, an annoyance to his entire B-team, but it would be worth it when those three agreed to join them, fight the good fight for the sake of them all. He was swinging his feet against the truck, the inconsistent thump of his feet against metal grounding him.

“You gotta relax,” Jack rubbed a hand over his face, sounding slightly irritating.

“I can’t help it. It’s the big day!”

“Ray will let us know when they get here. Just relax.”

“Like you aren’t just as tense,” Geoff shot back and looked up at his partner. Jack raised his eyebrows, unwilling to agree.

“Just think about something else for a while,”

“Like Ray avoiding us?”

Jack frowned. “We promised to give him time. And no, not like that.”

“We’d better fucking have time to talk with him. With three more people added to this fuckfest it’s gonna be hard as dicks to find time.” Geoff looked away, not wanting to let Jack see just how insecure he was feeling. Visions were a likely possibility, and they’d changed the course of things a few times, but nine out of ten times it happened anyways. He could only hope that Ray being with them was one of them. He’d gotten so used to Ray being around that he couldn’t imagine him not being there with him and Jack anymore. “That bastard is moving quicker than we thought, and we’re all fucked if this deal doesn’t go down.”

“You’ve only said a thousand times.” Jack’s words said annoyed, but his voice told Geoff he was just as worried. “We’ve come out of shit situations before. Ray might not love us, but he’s sticking around.”

“Yet, anyways. Jack, I hope he figures it out, and not just because of the vision,” Geoff agreed, thoughts wandering back to their quiet Source outside, “either way, I want to do right by him.”

Jack nodded silently, and Geoff got nervous. He wanted to pace but they could show up at any time, and he was already in position. Jack was talking to Ray through the headsets they all wore, reassuring him that they were fine as long as the link held up. Geoff’s stomach did small flips at the thought of draining Ray down again. Jack had mostly taken care of the repercussions of that particular fuck up, but Geoff had sat with the kid as he shivered in bed, spat blood into a bucket, and could barely speak for days. He didn’t particularly want to put Ray through something like that again.

He was drawn out of the memory by Ray’s low warning. With a reply he barely registered making, Geoff sat straighter, adjusted his suit, and waited for two of them to kick open the door of the hangar. He was nearly thrown off of the side of the box truck when the wall behind them blew open, and he inwardly cursed Ryan’s theatrics. It took a good amount of his self control not to freak out as their backs were now very open to attack, but Ray assured them that all three were to the south, where Geoff knew they’d be.

Moments later, there was gunfire in the hallways of the office connected to the hangar. There was no one there to stop them; Geoff had sent to B-team home, claiming if things went to hell that there was no reason for all of them to go down.

It wouldn’t, Geoff told himself. He slowly sank back into the role of confident crew boss. He had his shit together, he’d prepared his speech, and now all he had to do was intimidate one of the most intimidating people in the city. Jack was at his side, Ray was outside feeding them information. It was fine.

And then the door to the hangar was kicked open. Immediately a familiar blue crept into sight and engulfed the two of them just as the mini gun Ray warned them about showered the truck’s side. Jack’s powers had saved their asses so many times Geoff owed him his life a thousand times over. Bullets bounced off of the blue shield in place and some ricocheted back at the Vagabond and the kid next to him, and the mini gun whirred to a halt.

He only had a split second to analyze them; the Vagabond wore his mask, stood tall and proud despite shouldering such a heavy weapon. The kid next to him had an assault rifle drawn and ready. He had red curls peeking out from underneath a black beanie, brown eyes furious. Cute.  Then the kid fired, sending more bullets flying every which way. From inside the shield Geoff glanced at Jack, stone still in concentration. He wouldn’t let the shield up unless Ray called uncle, but Geoff knew the stress of keeping the shield up for time to negotiate with these two would take its toll later.

The Vagabond put out a hand and the rain of bullets ended. “Do it.”

The kid raised his hands, stepped forward to invoke his powers, but the pauses and the confusion on his face had Jack raise a hand to his headset.

“Ray, the line’s been cut, don’t let him move!”

The shield didn’t waver as more bullets hailed down on them again, they must have wasted half of their ammo before it finally stopped again.

“If you’re done throwing a fit—” Geoff started, but a silent conversation seemed to happen at the same time and both retreated for the door. Reflex was the only thing that saved them from needing to chase down the Vagabond and his cohort as Jack dropped the shield wrapping them and materialized it around the other two instead, effectively trapping them inside.

The kid wisely chose not to try and shoot through the shield, instead waling on it with his fist. When that didn’t work, he whipped around towards them and snarled loudly; “Let us the fuck go!”

“Are you done now?” Geoff asked, calm, cool. His insides were still liquid, sloshing around uncomfortably. “I’m afraid your powers aren’t going to work in here. You’ve strayed a little too far from your Source. You got my message right?”

“The one where you tried to kill us, sure fucking did. Your guys’ brains are all over the floor, bitch!”

The Vagabond was silent, hands still in the minigun. It was really annoying not being able to see what he was thinking. The kid was just a mad dog next to him, a bit of panic and worry mixed in with pure rage.

“I admit, it was in poor taste, but I needed you to come to me.” _Confidence_ , Geoff reminded himself. _Remember what you saw, what you practiced._ “Your Source is safe outside with mine. He’ll remain safe as long as he follows instructions. Gavin, right?”

“What do you want?”

Geoff smirked. “I want you to join us.”

“Go fish.”

Geoff nearly bust out laughing. God, he didn’t know how funny Ryan could be. “You haven’t listened to my offer, Ryan Haywood.”

The minigun raised slightly and while the Vagabond had stood at the ready before, Geoff thought maybe he’d fire and end up killing both of them.

_Not going to happen, keep everything according to plan._

“What do you know of that name?” the words were low, almost inaudible from the distance between them, but by the kid’s reaction, it was obvious what kind of tone Ryan had taken.

“I know it’s yours. And the kid next to you, his name is Michael Jones. You wanna know how I know that?” Geoff didn’t give them time to answer, he already knew playing with them was going to do no good. “You tell me yourself sometime in the future. Unfortunately for you, things have changed and we don’t have to time to wait for that future.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“My name is Geoff Ramsey and I can see the future.” While Geoff felt the urge to stand, to bow theatrically, he squashed it down. That wasn’t how it went in the vision. _Stick to the vision._ “I’ve seen some shit, and while I would love to take care of it myself, that’s no longer an option. I’m sure you’ve heard of some asshole called the Corpirate. He’s been collecting Sources in an attempt to take over the city.”

Jack shifted next to him, and Geoff knew he starting to worry about the length of time they had left. Ray hadn’t made a peep, so they could only assume he was occupied with keeping Gavin stationary.

“He’s got more manpower than anyone else now, and I’ve seen some shit go down in the near future. He’ll aim for you first, take your Source, and then he’s going to come after us.”

“He can fucking try.” was the response, and Geoff knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it was possible. “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

“See, I don’t think so, _Ryan_. You’re used to working by yourself and you made a very big mistake today. You left your Source out in the open. If I was anyone else, he’d be dead or taken.”

“You touch him and I swear I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth!” Michael snarled, raising his assault rifle again.

Geoff could see him shaking a bit, whether in panic or rage, it was hard to tell, but it was obvious he was itching to get back to their Source as quickly as possible. God, what a stupid plan they had come up with. How in the hell did Ryan expect to keep those two safe? He was the Vagabond, for Christ’s sake! Solo by nature. At this point in his life, he never should have had the boys with him.

Geoff wanted to know that story so bad. How did two kids manage to worm their way into Ryan’s cold little heart? That was the thing about visions, he only caught glimpses, and if he was lucky, some glimpses told a story, but others were just useless snippets of a possible life.

Little moments of Ryan laughing with the rest of them over something Michael said, of Ray sitting next to Gavin quietly in the dark, of Jack kissing him…

_Focus._

“He’s fine. Even if you refuse the offer, I’m not interested in collecting Sources.”

“Then why us?” Ryan asked, adjusting his grip on his own gun. “Get to the fucking point, _Ramsey_.”

“Fuckin’—I’m getting there!” Geoff scowled. “Unless you want to end up dead like the rest of us, we need to work together. I’ve got no intentions of taking over the damn city. I don’t care about what you do, I don’t even care about the fucking Corpirate, but he’s going to threaten what I’ve built and I don’t take kindly to threats. So I’m asking you to work with us. Let’s take him the fuck out and if you decide after that to fuck off, you’re free to go. I’ll compensate you for your efforts, if that helps. You should know by now we’re already rich as dicks.”

Geoff tried to ignore Jack’s message to Ray in his ear, but it was hard to when Ray responded with:

“ _We’re better off without them.”_

Fuck. He could only hope that Ray hadn’t killed Gavin outside. Whatever happened, they’d work it out. If Ray needed to get something off of his chest, they’d talk about it after the immediate threats left and they were safely tucked away at home.

“Drop the shield.” Ryan ordered, and after a moment Geoff nodded to Jack, who reluctantly dropped it.

Geoff knew he was ready to raise it back up the second either of them moved to attack. “There, we’ve shown some good faith. I’ll give you three days to think about it. Meet us back here at noon on the fourth day if you accept. We’ll discuss terms and payment upon arrival. This is a partnership, not some fucking hostage situation.”

Ryan was quiet, and it was clear Michael was ready to just ditch him and race back to Gavin. Jack still had a hand on his headset, ready to give Ray as much time as he could to get out of there. But after a moment, he spoke again.

“Three days.”

A single nod, and then they were gone. Tension—and possibly his brain—leaked from his body. If Ray was willing, he needed to get another glimpse of the future. He needed reassurance that it was all going to work out. Those three would accept the offer, they’d all be together and fight together. And then, if Geoff was lucky, love would wheedle its way in.

And then Ray came over the radio. “ _I hope they say no._ ”

“Quit whining, Ray. It wasn’t that bad.” Geoff scolded. “We need this to work out. You haven’t seen what I have.”

Ray didn’t see the horror waiting if this failed. Of blood spread across tiles, that ugly eyepatch dropping to the floor and the hideous eye underneath glowing in the shadows. He didn’t see the soft moments of happiness if it worked, if they could find a way to convince Ryan to give it a chance.

Jack sighed heavily. “I’ll go get him. Why don’t you go get the car?”

“Yeah, okay.” Geoff scratched at the back of his head, not sure of what he was feeling at the moment. “You alright?”

“Yeah, my arms are a little numb, but I can still feel them. Worth it,” He said with a weak smile.

“Sorry to put so much stress on you two today.” Geoff chewed at the inside of his cheek, glancing down at Jack as he hopped off of the box truck and stumbling a little in his landing. “We _need_ this Jack.”

“I know.” Jack reached up and squeezed Geoff’s left leg reassuringly. “It will all work out Geoff. Let’s focus on Ray for now.”

“Yeah.” Geoff watched his boyfriend leave and let himself be lost in thought for a bit before muttering “I need a drink.” and hopped off of the box truck. His legs protested the fall, but he stuck the landing and limped a little to the car.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, real life sucks and it got the better of us, but everything has calmed down and we're right back at it! I can't promise that there won't be more delays in the future, but we're really trying to keep to the Sunday schedule, so thank you for your patience!

The hum of the car silenced as Ryan pulled the keys out of the ignition and practically kicked his door open. Gavin watched as Michael did the same, feeling a bit numb after his confusing encounter with Ramsey’s Source. He didn’t have much time to just sit and think, however, because Michael opened his door and tugged him out of the car. The suspicious look in his eyes hadn’t let up since the two of them had come running out of the hangar.

“I’m fine,” Gavin reassured once more, muted and flat, “I’m coming.”

The new “safehouse” they had been dreaming about two days earlier was just the weed farm they’d cleared out that very same day. At least it was bigger and had more space for them to spread out,, so Gavin really didn’t have to hang around a still murderous Ryan. Whatever happened inside the hangar had only served to fuel the anger- and if the way Ryan was taking a crowbar to the glass of the nearest greenhouse said anything, it was best not to bother him for a while.

Which meant he could only really ask Michael what had happened inside, but Michael was tugging him around by his wrist collecting guns. Once they both had an armful, he was led out back to where the sheep had been re-penned.

“You’re learning how to shoot right the fuck now.” Michael told him and shoved a handgun into his chest. “I know you’re shit at it, but we aren’t going to stop until you can defend yourself.”

“Michael—”

“Shut up and aim the gun, Gavin.”

“Michael.” Gavin tried again, lips thinning. The crash of another glass window breaking resounded behind them and Gavin knew Ryan must have taken out half of the windows by now.

“What happened?”

“Aim and shoot.” Michael ordered, and waved at the sheep. “Plenty of targets. Pick one and take it out.”

“Michael, I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care, Gavin. We’ve played this game for too long. You’re learning whether you want to or not.”

“No, I’m not.” Gavin tossed the gun into the dirt and watched as Michael’s face slowly started to turn red in anger. “What happened?”

“I should be asking you the same fucking thing!” Michael snarled. “You just sat there and let some asshole hold a gun to your head, is that what happened? Because that’s what it looked like to me.”

Indignant shame heated his own face. “That isn’t what happened.”

“Then what did happen?”

“He was just being a bloody mingepot! He called me stupid and then you came back.”

“Yeah? Because that’s not what Ramsey said was happening.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes, frustration building. It was bad enough that Ramsey’s Source chastised him for no reason and made assumptions about how they work, but now Michael was doing the same thing.

“How the hell would he know what was happening?”

“Headsets.” Michael growled. “You can’t just be a sitting duck anymore, Gavin. We need to be better, safer. They’re going to come after us and you need to learn how to fucking shoot so get to it!”

“I wasn’t a sitting duck! He wasn’t trying to kill me.” Well, not really. Some threats may have been passed around, but the guy wasn’t actually aiming to kill. “He just wanted to bitch a bit! And he said that Ramsey wanted to team up—”

“He can fuck off.” Michael stooped and picked up the gun, once again thrusting it into Gavin’s hands. “We aren’t going to join him and he’s just going to send more people out to get us, so you need to learn this!”

“He knows already.”

Gavin jumped at the voice and whirled around to see Ryan, crowbar still in hand. The two of them stared at him a moment and waited for an elaboration that never came.

“What do you mean, _he knows_?” Michael’s voice dipped low, threatening, and Gavin swallowed hard.

“He already knows how to shoot a gun.”

“Ryan!” Gavin hissed, heart stuttering in panic.

“What the fuck is he talking about Gavin?” And Michael stepped closer, encroaching on his space, hand still wrapped around a gun pressed against Gavin’s chest.

“I…” And he tried desperately to come up with _something_ to say because no matter came out it was bad. Very, very bad. Betrayal swirled around the panic. Ryan had promised! But if he addressed that it was going to be ten times worse and Michael was scowling, eyes searching for an answer Gavin didn’t want to give. “I may have paid attention to your lessons.”

The snarl that came from Michael’s mouth wasn’t the funny kind. It wasn’t cute and endearing like he imagined it would be when he planned to pull out a lucky shot somewhere when they were joking about. It was supposed to be a fun surprise, not the betrayal Michael was making it out to be.

“What the _fuck,_ Gavin?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Gavin tried to defend, to spin it positively..

“What else can you do, huh? Is that the only secret or is there anything else you and _Ryan_ have been hiding?”

Oh, shit. Shit shit shit this wasn’t—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go and Gavin instinctively glanced nervously at Ryan, still stood tall and menacing in the back. Looking back was a mistake and Michael took it for exactly what it was. He was looking to see if Ryan was going to out his other secrets. Pulling back, Michael shook his head and spat on the ground in front of him.

Gavin’s heart sank.

“I can’t fucking believe this. Go on! Spill whatever else it is you’re hiding because now’s your chance, Gavin! Get it all out in the open while we’re being _honest_.” Michael adjusted his grip on the gun, but Gavin didn’t feel any fear that Michael would shoot him. But he might leave, and that was worse.

Ryan was silent behind him, with Michael twitching with anger in front of him. The pressure on both sides was enough to force his mouth open.

“I can hack.” He said it quietly, eyes downcast because he didn’t want to see Michael’s reaction. He was sure to hear it, but he wasn’t sure he could bear to see it. “I’m good with technology and I’m good at lifting.”

And that was it. No yelling, no cursing, Michael just turned his back and left. He hopped the fence and strode past the sheep without a word. Gavin watched him leave, all strength in his limbs gone. He felt like collapsing in the dirt, just flopping down and not moving for the next century. Ryan was still standing there, though, watching with cold eyes.

“Was it worth it?”

And if that wasn’t the twist to the knife in his back, Gavin didn’t know what was. He felt his face twist into something ugly, hurt, and without thinking, spat,

“Worth as much as your promise.”

And then he stalked off too, leaving Ryan to do whatever he was going to do. Gavin threw open the door to the warehouse and kicked over a bag of weed, stomping on the outpouring contents. His heart felt sick, he had no idea if Michael was going to come back, and he _knew_ Ryan wasn’t going to allow him to go after him. If he was lucky, Ryan wouldn’t allow Michael to leave either.

He’d track him down and bring him back and Gavin could apologize, explain everything.

He’d find a way to make it up to Michael, he had to. The bitterness of Dan’s— _no, Michael’s_ —leaving was creeping back in. And he didn’t want to be that person anymore. He didn’t want to wallow in the pity, pick pockets and lift expensive things just to fill the hole with adrenaline. He didn’t want to struggle to find out who he was because he had put everything he had into Dan and it was his own fault—if he hadn’t been a Source, if he hadn’t been so insistent that things would work out, they’d be a powerful team and they could make something of themselves. Dan didn’t have to work so hard to keep them afloat and Gavin could give up being pushed around by mob bosses, gangsters, and whoever else needed a quick hack for whatever.

If he hadn’t have wanted something he couldn’t have, they would still be together.

And Michael had been the same. He was fun, a different kind of fun than Dan, a different kind of dependable and he was willing to accept that Gavin was a Source, that dangerous shit happened and they just needed to be more dangerous themselves to avoid trouble. It was too good, too fun, too free.

He should have just told Michael from the beginning.

Heaving a sigh, Gavin scrubbed a hand down his face. He left the trampled bag of weed and entered what was supposed to be the office. A blow up bed was set up, Ryan’s brilliant plan because why would Gavin and Michael be blessed with a not shitty place to stay? It was honestly a wonder that Ryan even bothered with money in the first place when he never spent it on anything but groceries and guns.

The bed made that rubber sound when he flopped onto it and kicked off his shoes. Guilt and anger and anxiety curled in his stomach and so he rolled over, covering himself with the small blanket and willed himself to forget.

Forget that Ryan is a huge asshole who definitely couldn’t be trusted with any more secrets.

Forget that he’d done wrong by Michael, who was probably never coming back.

Forget that this felt just like when Dan left without a word, just a sloppily written note on his nightstand.

Forget that this was all his fault in the first place.

Forget about that bitchy Source Ramsey had, who told him this would happen. Where did he get off on being such a prick? Why be nasty to someone who was in the same boat? It was already hard enough to try and balance a line, let alone two. It was hard to deal with retching after a big draw, the headaches, the dizziness. And the cold. Most importantly the cold.

Being a Source was absolute shit, so why not be friends? Ramsey wanted to team up anyways, so wouldn’t it benefit the both of them to compare notes?

Forget and sleep, he told himself, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Hours passed, night fell, and there was no sign of Michael. Ryan came in and out, destroyed more windows, threw some things around, and occasionally peeked into the office to check if he was still there, but Gavin refused to say anything and Ryan never initiated conversation.

Halfway through the night the overwhelming smell of something burning woke him. Shoving the blanket off of him, Gavin ran through the warehouse. It was devoid of the enormous bags of weed that had previously took up half of the warehouse. Once he made it outside the orange and red of flames poked out of every single destroyed greenhouse. The smoke smelled horrid and the fire crackled loudly, on occasion cracking the remaining remnants of glass Ryan hadn’t been able to reach.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and Gavin just about jumped out of his skin. Ryan stood behind him, hand firm on his shoulder, but there didn’t seem to be a sense of urgency to the touch.

“Are we under attack?” Gavin yelled over the roaring of the flames.

“No.”

“Well what’d you light up the weed for?”

Ryan shrugged, and Gavin stared incredulously. The flames seemed contained, and there was enough distance between the warehouse and the greenhouses that they probably weren’t in any danger.

Annoyed by the disturbance, Gavin pulled away from Ryan’s touch and went back to bed, coughing a bit as smoke blew into the warehouse from time to time. He was feeling a bit dizzy, but a lot calmer than before—and whether that was the smoke from burning the weed or just a fair bit of sleep, he couldn’t tell. He’d never been high before, but he’d been told it was quite different than being drunk.

Either way, sleep came easily.

He dreamed of that other Source, with his purple hoodie and his glasses. He dreamed of him laughing genuinely while smoking something.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fuck Ryan and his shitty, stupid places to stay. Fuck being out in the countryside where there were no stores, no hotels, and no fast food places. Fuck Gavin for lying to him, for being the biggest asshole out there and keeping secrets when they were Team Nice Dynamite. He’d always been there for him—always! Took care of his dumb ass when he was sick from a draw, gave him a place to stay when he didn’t have one, protected him—killed for him!

And yet he told Ryan he could handle a gun, told _Ryan_ that he could hack things. It wasn’t a _totally useful skill_ that could have saved their asses time and time again or anything. No, why bother mentioning something so fucking helpful? Was he waiting for Michael to die? Was that it? Just laughing it up that he could have been a real fucking help while Michael struggled to keep them safe.

And if he’d just been keeping it secret for the sake of playing a prank, of surprising him like he said, then why the hell did he talk to _Ryan_ about it? The secret glances the two of them had shared, the little smiles, all of it only fueled the anger and hurt.

What absolute bullshit.

Michael’s foot slipped and he almost fell down the hillside, but managed to slide halfway down it instead. His ankle protested, but it didn’t feel like he’d rolled or sprained it. Spitting out curses, he pulled himself back up, zipped up his leather jacket, and trudged onwards.

Autumn nights were cold and windy, and it was hard to see out in the middle of nowhere. He needed to make camp somewhere for the night, but the urge to press onward continued. Immediately down the hill was another hill he had to climb, this one higher than the last. His feet hurt from trekking for hours, his injuries from almost being assassinated still ached, but the stitching held. He wouldn’t be fully recovered for another week, but at least he didn’t feel like dying anymore. He went over his injuries as a way to distract himself, and continued his walk.

By the time he got to the top of the hill, though, he was out of breath. The moon was half hidden by clouds, so it was only every once in awhile that he could actually see the landscape in front of him. Something flickered in his vision, and he reluctantly turned back around the way he’d come.

Fire. He could barely see it, being so far away, but there was definitely something on fire in the distance and his heart clenched.

_Gavin._

He was still seething, but the thought that Gavin was burning to a crisp because Ramsey or some other asshole came after them and he _wasn’t there_ pushed his legs forward without hesitation. He ran, knowing he’d never make it close in time, but if by some miracle Ryan had survived and Gavin was taken they could track him down.

His lungs heaved; he hadn’t rested the entire time he was stalking off in whatever-the-fuck direction because he couldn’t _stand_ to look at Gavin and Ryan any longer, didn’t want to hear their excuses. He kept running, kept imagining the horror he was going to be met with and he shouldn’t feel guilty. _He_ wasn’t the one that had lied and manipulated the people he trusted, he shouldn’t care about Gavin’s sorry ass. Regardless, it all kept his legs moving and he could still see the flames, and that was all that mattered.

He slipped and fell, he slid down hills—why were there so many fucking hills?—and he had to slow to a walk and gasp for air, and why had he gone so far? Why didn’t he just fuck off somewhere closer? Somewhere safe and secluded? He wouldn’t actually leave. He just needed time to rage, somewhere safe, right?

Michael stopped, gasping for air, hands on his knees. Had he even planned on going back? If there was no fire, no urgent disaster looming in front of him, would he have gone back to

Gavin? Was he going to stay if he found Gavin again?

Fuck if he knew. The anger hadn’t dissipated, and he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but right now all that mattered was getting Gavin to safety. Then Michael could kill him himself. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed forward again, able to see clearer that the greenhouses were on fire. He only had a couple of miles left before he made it to the… well it wasn’t really a safehouse. The new place Ryan had found for them, anyways.

Finally, Michael found himself heaving for air, muscles shaking as he stood in front of the green houses in a field of sheep, staring wide eyed at the fire that was finally dying. The place reeked of weed, and Ryan stood in front of the fixed fence just feet away from Michael, arms crossed.

“What the fuck happened?” Michael demanded.

Ryan didn’t turn to look at him, just continued to watch the diminishing flames. “Nothing.”

There was something about the way he said it that made Michael take a breath. There was no danger then, just Ryan being Ryan and doing whatever the fuck he felt like. The lingering smoke made his eyes burn, and he wiped at the tears starting to form.

“Where’s Gavin?”

“Asleep.”

The one word answers were annoying, but Michael understood. He wasn’t in much of a talking mood either. Leaning against the fence, he took Ryan’s lead and watched the glow of the flame die and darkness encompassed the area once more. Although it would be morning soon, the faintest hints light gave away the time.

“Were you going to come after me?” Michael asked without meaning to.

“No.”

Michael snorted. Figured. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Ryan did turn to look at him then, took a bucket of water and doused a stray batch of fire still burning. “I knew you’d find your way back.”

Something fluttered in his stomach then, and it took a moment for that to sink in. That son of a bitch. “You burned the weed so I could find my way back?”

Ryan paused and turned to him again. “No, I burned the weed because it isn’t useful to me. And these greenhouses need to go.”

What a fucking liar. The flat look on Michael’s face must have conveyed his thoughts because Ryan just walked off, a little too fast for his normal speed. What the hell was his problem? Why couldn’t he just admit that the two of them meant something to him like a fucking normal person? Shaking his head at his supposed “boss”, Michael shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and entered the warehouse. Gavin was probably asleep in the office, and despite the panic he’d felt running his ass all the way back here, he wasn’t ready to see him.

Holing upstairs in some other room that wasn’t quite an office, he curled up in the corner and tried to get some sleep. It was spotty sleep, and he wasn’t sure how much sleep he actually got when he heard the door the room open and Gavin’s surprised face stared down at him.

There was a pause, far too long for either of them to speak comfortably, and so Michael pulled himself up and went for the door, practically bodily pushing Gavin out of the way.

“Michael…” Gavin tried, but Michael continued on his way, down the stairs, and out of the warehouse.

Gavin didn’t follow him. He didn’t really know where he was going, but his wandering took him to Ryan again, and he stood a good twenty feet away, just watching him clean guns in the grass near the car.

He had made a decision last night to stay with these two assholes. The second he thought about danger, he literally came running back. Since he was staying—something to reevaluate later, because he was still pissed off and Gavin had a deep grip on his heart, but he wasn’t going to be lied to again.—he may as well find out what the plan was.

So he approached Ryan slowly, casually. Ryan didn’t pay him any attention, just continued to take apart another gun and clean the parts methodically.

“There’s no way we’re joining Ramsey, right?”

“No.”

“Great, just making sure we’re on the same page. So what are we doing now, then?” Ryan didn’t respond and Michael scowled. “Okay, I didn’t come back for this shit. Either talk to me or I’m walking away.”

“You’re free to go anytime.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Gavin stays, you were just a condition.” Ryan wasn’t looking at him, but Michael heard the hesitation in his voice.

“You’re fucking full of it. We’re a team now, asshole, so get your head out of your ass and work with us!”

Ryan pulled the pieces of the gun he was working on closer, reattaching parts with expert ease.

“We either fight Ramsey or we fight the Corpirate. You’re either here to help or you walk away. Pick one, Michael, but don’t expect me to cater to your tantrums.”

With narrowed eyes and teeth bared, Michael kicked up dirt in Ryan’s direction and stalked off in the opposite direction. This was bullshit all around. After a moment, he stopped and turned back around, hands balled into fists.

“I get that you thought you were the biggest bad and you got a fucking reality check. I get that it fucked you up, but you need to grow the fuck up. It was your plan that nearly got us all killed. It was because you’re a stubborn bitch that we went after Ramsey too early. I fucking trusted you, Gavin trusted you, and you’re the one who let us down. So why don’t you come up with a plan that isn’t to go after someone who will kill us?”

With that, Michael turned and marched away, leaving Ryan staring at him, guns forgotten. Great, now he was pissed off again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin tapped his foot impatiently. There was older computer in the room Michael had holed up in through the night and it took a while, but he managed to get onto the internet and _god,_ it felt good. The connection was slow, out in the country, but it served its purpose and Gavin got to work.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that Source. A few hours of digging around and Gavin was far more impressed with Ramsey’s set up than he had been previously. Geoff Ramsey knew how to run a crew, it was tight knit, secure, and the guy made very little mistakes. His territory was large and his operation was smooth.

His opposite, the Corpirate, had a similar set up. Anything underground was mostly run by the corporate-like kingpin, and it was no wonder the cops in this city had a hard time taking out the corruption. The man was a smooth talker, bribed just about everyone of importance and still put on a public appearance. Men like that were terrifying. The amount of faces they had to put on, the sheer concentration and vice grip they had to have on every operation was insane, and Gavin had grudging respect for the man.

The rumors that the Source Hunters worked for a man like him were becoming more and more plausible. If Ramsey needed them, he was most likely going to try and take out the Corpirate, or at the very least use them to help beef up security to defend against him. Suddenly running around just the three—or two of them, if Michael left—made Gavin feel really, really, vulnerable.

They needed to take the deal.

Leaning back in his chair, Gavin tried desperately to come up with a plan. Michael wasn’t talking to him, Ryan was… well he wasn’t exactly speaking to Ryan right now.

“Shit,” Gavin whispered to himself and carded a hand through mussed up hair.

“What?”

Gavin jumped in his chair, banging his knees against the underside of the desk he sat at. Michael leaned against the door, scowl on his face, but otherwise relaxed.

“Michael, you came back!”

“Yeah, well, you’re an asshole.” It was a weak response, and it let Gavin know that while he was still in trouble, Michael wasn’t unwilling to listen to him anymore.

Gavin’s shoulders slumped and he offered a timid smile back. “I’m glad you came back.”

Michael shrugged in response and crossed his arms over his chest. Gavin needed to tread carefully, he’d never fought with Michael like this and he wasn’t sure how to keep him from running off again.

“I’m sorry, Michael.” He started, swallowing back the fear of losing him again. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. What I want to know is why the fuck you told Ryan and not me.”

“I… he knew I was hiding something. And so he took us out here and made me tell him.” Gavin looked down and twiddled his thumbs. Michael stayed quiet so he elaborated a bit more. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. I just…” he paused with a frustrated noise, “alright! I’m going to have to start with the beginning so just—”

Michael just continued to stare and Gavin worked up the courage to look him in the eye.

“When I first moved here I was here with my best mate. Three months into being here we found out I was a Source. Dan was an Inheritor. It was the best thing to ever happen to us for a bit. But he was taking too much and I panicked, so I snapped the line. I didn’t even know I could do it, I just… did. And it scared him, and we had a bad row after that and so when I could finally function again he… he left.”

Michael’s face didn’t change much, he opened his mouth, but closed it again to listen to Gavin tell his tale.

“And I just sort of wandered and then I met you in that bank. And I was just going to link with you until we were safe. But you were really funny, and it was nice to have someone again. And so I thought I’d just stay with you until you were sick of me, but you never were and I tried to be extra annoying just to see if you were in it for the power, but you weren’t. And then we met Ryan and it was too late to just tell you that I could actually do things. And then Ryan bloody figured it out and I’ve gone and ruined everything.”

“You’re a fucking _idiot_.” And Gavin had expected that one. “It took you eight months to figure out that I wasn’t in it for the fucking power? You’re a goddamn moron!”

“I know.” Gavin admitted miserably.

“Gavin, you fucking idiot, I love you!” Michael was standing straight now, hands fisted to his sides. “How could you not figure that one out?!”

The words knocked the breath out of him and of course he knew. He knew it all along because he felt the same but… but Michael could still leave at any time and he hadn’t wanted to give him up.

“I know. I mean—I love you too.” Gavin stuttered, eyes wide and searching Michael’s, finding his own feelings reflected. “I just didn’t want to lose you and—”

“Yeah well you almost did! You can’t do this anymore. No more fucking lies, Gavin, I can’t.” The love in his eyes retreated to fear, to hurt, and it made Gavin feel sick again.

“No more. I swear, no more. I- I really do love you, Michael. I never meant to hurt you. You’re important, Michael. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t think so.”

“Good, you’re a moron, but you’re _my_ moron.” Michael tried to bring the anger he felt to a low simmer, he had been dating Gavin for this long, he knew that Gavin wouldn’t have kept a secret like that out of malice. “You’re sure that’s everything? Anything else you need to tell me?”

Gavin hesitated, unsure it was the right time, but he blurted out anyways, “I think we should join Ramsey.”

And Michael blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing. “What the fuck?”

“We’re outnumbered. I’ve been digging around and we don’t stand a chance, Michael. Not unless we have more people watching our backs. And Ramsey is willing and if my research adds up, he needs us just as bad. Why else would he offer?”

“How did you know about the offer? Did Ryan tell you?”

“No, Ramsey’s Source.” Gavin scrunched his nose. “He was a right prick about it, but he told me that we were being extended an offer. And I’ve been thinking about it and we need more than what we have.”

“We can’t trust them, Gavin!”

“Think about it Michael!” Gavin pleaded, “More people could help us keep Ryan less… murdery.”

Michael was quiet for a moment, eyes moving around the room in thought. “He wants to go on the offensive.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he said we’re either going to attack Corpirate or Ramsey.”

“Christ, we’re gonna die.”

“I still don’t trust Ramsey. He said he can see the future.”

Gavin lit up, eyes wide. “That explains so much. He’s been one step ahead, Michael, think about it. He knows if someone will betray him. Why would he invite us in just to turn on us? He had us where he wanted us yesterday.”

“That doesn’t mean shit if he intends to gain your trust and then casually off Ryan and I.” Michael argued. “He’s dangerous and his crew is way too close to just let us in—let _Ryan_ in.”

“Yeah but we could always turn on him first. What if we just use him instead?”

Michael rubbed at his forehead. “Gavin.”

“We have to do something. Michael, we need more.”

“Why are you so concerned about this now? We could pick anyone and it’d be the same situation.”

Well, if Gavin was being honest today, “His Source. I need someone to talk to Michael, about Source stuff.”

“You said he was a dick.”

“But he’s a Source. He understands how shit it is.”

“You could literally join any other fucking group and find a Source Gavin.”

“But we could negotiate terms with Ramsey. And he sees the future, Michael! We would be safer with him.”

Michael heaved a sigh and shook his head, but gave a resigned shrug. “There’s no way Ryan’s going to go for this.”

“Don’t worry, Michael, I’ve got an idea.” Gavin gave a tentative smile, reaching to take Michael’s hand.


	15. Chapter 15

Ryan shook his head and opened the trunk of the car he’d been standing in front of.

Like all arguments he had with Michael, Ryan was starting to get exhausted. Michael was so insistent and belligerent that Ryan found it difficult to argue his side like he usually would. Michael, clever and logical when it suited him and would get Gavin to back him up, and the two were impossible to argue with. If Ryan caved, they lorded the victory over him. If he stood firm because Ryan knew best—and proved it time and time again—the two pouted and bitched until he wished he’d caved.

This argument was no different than the others. Michael didn’t want any more danger? Tough luck, danger was everywhere, especially since Gavin was a Source, and Ryan, the Vagabond. Gavin wanted—well, Ryan wasn’t sure what Gavin wanted at the moment, but it likely wasn’t going to be feasible.

Ryan just wanted to take a _damn_ job, get paid, and actually get some _fucking_ sleep. The stress of sharing the burden of the job he’d taken from Hector, dealing with Michael being hurt, dealing with Gavin’s fussing—and by extension his secrets, Gavin trying to learn _Ryan’s_ secrets, and now this Ramsey business…

He’d be better off on his own again.

Well, he knew that wasn’t true, but it was so much simpler when he wasn’t worrying about the other two.

Ryan grunted as he lifted the mini gun, hefting it into the trunk of the car. It hardly fit with all of the explosives and smaller guns strewn across the carpeted trunk. He really needed to reorganize, but there would be time for that later. Moving a few guns about and taking general inventory, he realized that they’d lost the rocket launcher while hunting down Nick Zaretsky.

Ryan didn’t know why he felt disappointed, like he’d lost something of sentimental value. Michael was the only one who really cared about the thing. Ryan had agreed to take it at the lake house, and so they’d added it onto the pile, but they would have been fine without it.

Probably better, as the assassination would have been less… _loud_ . But as much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, Ryan knew Michael was right. Ryan used to be the biggest threat in the city. Emphasis on _used to be_. Now Geoff Ramsey threw around his name like it meant nothing. Ryan could barely hold his own against a Source and Inheritor duo, not to mention he couldn’t even land a freelance job without Gavin in tow.

The city had changed. _He_ had changed. And those little shits knew it, needling him until he caved like he was their fucking _father_ or something. He had to keep them safe, it was part of the damn agreement, but he hadn’t expected to get fucking _attached_. He hadn’t really thought too much about it when Gavin ran off to sulk. But dark started to fall and Michael didn’t return, and the thought that he was lost and needed to find a way back had just forced Ryan’s body to move, to light all of them up.

To be called out on it was a shock. He hadn’t thought about it. Instinct had just taken over and dear God, he really was looking out for them like they were his damn—

He sighed, annoyed, and picked up the wrench lying by his feet. When he tossed it in it clattered against the guns loudly.

Ryan hadn’t had a family in a very, very long time. The hole was there, empty and vast, and there just hadn’t been a need or a way to fill it back up. So it stayed, and a mask was put on, and honestly he enjoyed the fear it instilled in people. The life of the Vagabond was fun and exciting. There wasn’t time for a family, even if he might have wanted one.

Yet here he was, staring at the guns in the trunk, mulling over Michael’s words.

 _“I fucking trusted you, Gavin trusted you, and you’re the one who let us down. So why don’t you come up with a plan that_ isn’t _to go after someone who will kill us?”_

Easier said than done. Their backs were against a wall if they wanted to stay within the city, and Ryan’s pride wouldn’t let him leave and start over. He rubbed a greasy hand against the outside of his mask. The damn thing was more irritating than not, and he should just take the damn thing off. Besides, Michael already knew his full name. Maybe a family wouldn’t be so bad.

The sound of grass and gravel crunching snapped his attention from the guns. Michael stood behind Gavin—unusual—with hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Gavin had his arms crossed, thumb moving up and down his arm in a calming rhythm.

“What?” He wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk after Michael had barked at him a little over an hour ago. He was exhausted, frustrated, and not in the mood to be confronted.

Gavin swallowed hard, leaned back a bit, and then took a step forward, chin jutting out. “We think we should take the deal.”

Eyes narrowed, Ryan looked over accusingly at Michael, who kept his face neutral. Not his idea, then. He rarely let Gavin take the lead, and Ryan briefly wondered if this was to get back at him for earlier. Not surprising, since he’d managed to piss both of them off in the last twelve hours.

“No.”

“Listen first.” Gavin chastised. “I have some things I’ve found—”

“We aren’t taking the deal.” Ryan cut off, hands fisting against the car. “He’ll fuck us over the second he gets the chance.”

“Then why would he let us go?” Gavin argued. “His territory is under attack, his people have taken major hits, and the police have been catching on to his operations. He’s desperate.”

“Which is why an alliance won’t last long. The second he doesn’t need us, we’re going to get stabbed in the back.”

“Unless we’re too valuable to give up. And we are.” Michael cut in, voice flat.

“Sounds a bit familiar, dunnit?” Gavin gave a wry smirk. “Ramsey is too clever to think he could pull the wool over our eyes. You’re a scary guy, Ryan.”

“We don’t need him.” Ryan dismissed. They were making good points, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t afford to surrender that much control. “We can barely manage to work as a team now, what makes you think we could take on his whole entourage? They’re going to whore you out, Gavin. You’re just another Source to be used to him.”

“Nah,” Gavin waved him off like he’d just been told it might rain today, “you didn’t get to meet his Source. That guy’s a _real_ bitch, so there’s no way they just order him around.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. As usual, his point went right over Gavin’s head. Michael, however, looked a little less sure that Gavin was in the right, here. “And you think everything’s going to be peachy? You don’t think Ramsey is just going to fuck us the second we turn our backs and the Corpirate is gone?”

“He told us he can see the fucking future,” Michael answered, “and he’s willing to work with us, so he’s at least more reasonable than the other assholes looking to beef up their ranks. Between the Corpirate, the fucking Source hunters, and every other asshole looking for power out there, we’re gonna need more than we’ve got if we want to survive this. And I think you know that.”

“You’re really fine with trusting Gavin to someone else?”

“ _Y_ _our_ plan is to just kill everyone, so what’s the fucking difference? Either we die fighting everyone in the goddamn city, or we give Ramsey a fucking shot and either we live—” Michael tilted his head, and continued slowly, “or, he stabs us in the back. Personally, I’d at least like to _try_ to live.”

“Ryan,” Gavin started, pausing until Ryan turned his attention back to the blonde, chin still jutted confidently, “they have a Source, Ryan.”

“Sure do, Gavin. What’s your point?”

“If you guys link, you’re gonna get new powers. You could get something way more powerful than seeing the future or shields. We could always use those abilities to strike Ramsey first if things go belly up.”

That was a fair point, actually, and one he hadn’t even considered. Ramsey had said that they’d need to negotiate conditions, so if they really wanted, they could negotiate a Source trade of sorts. If their Source worked closely with Michael and himself, they could use him as leverage. A hostage situation, maybe. From what Michael had told him, Ramsey’s crew were tight knit and hard to get into and they wouldn’t want to risk a Source so close to them. Alternatively, they get the Source to trust them, link up, and bleed him dry while using their powers against Ramsey and his cohorts. It would be a bleak way to go, and Gavin would be far less trusting of them after, but as far as they knew, Gavin was the only one who had figured out how to cut a line. Once the link was started, it would be game over.

It would be a good opportunity to scope out Ramsey’s operation as well. If they negotiated a termination date and went their separate ways after the Corpirate was dead, Ryan could always come back and finish the job. Gavin shifted, drawing Ryan’s attention. He looked more nervous than he had before, but determinedly pressed on.

“I’ve done a lot of digging, Ryan. The Corpirate going after Ramsey makes no sense. He deals in the black market, mostly, and his operation rarely ever crosses Ramsey’s. They could coincide peacefully, but the Corpirate is going after Ramsey anyways. I think he’s trying to take complete control of the city. Ryan, that would be bad for all of us, Ryan. ”

“Ramsey did say that the Corpirate would target us first.” Michael reminded. “It’s just a matter of time before we have to deal with them both, so why don’t we just team up for a bit, get that asshole off our backs, and then get back to killing everyone?”

It was a lot to ask, for him to put his own safety in so much jeopardy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, at this point. They’d been tied to him long enough and forgone enough opportunities to fuck him over for him to doubt their loyalty to him now, and that thought made him itchy and vaguely trapped. But allowing them to decide his fate now caused his insides to squirm.

“I need to think."

Gavin slumped in disappointment, but Michael just pulled the Source back toward the warehouse. Ryan hadn’t refused them outright, so if in the end he rejected their plan, they had no right to complain. He was grateful Michael had taken the hint and given him space to breathe and to mull over his options.

Shutting the trunk, Ryan glanced at his two little brats entering the warehouse, locked in a somewhat hushed argument. Gavin seemed pretty determined to get his way, not necessarily a first, but the Brit was different as of late. A little less feeble, more like a kid his age should be. Proud, stubborn, selfish. The difference wasn’t huge, but it was definitely a change in their usual dynamic.

Fine. If Gavin could come up with a logical plan and didn’t back down from this one, he’d _reluctantly_ agree to follow their lead. Absolute worst case scenario, he pulls the plug, kills Ramsey’s team, and strikes up a deal with the Corpirate.

He ignored the pang in his chest at the thought and fished out his phone. The Edgars would be able to dig up more information than Gavin at this point, especially if he was using the piece of shit Mac in the office. Sending out the order, Ryan returned the phone to his pocket and waited.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jack glanced up from his plate for like, the fifteenth time in the last five minutes, watching Ray stab at a piece of broccoli on his plate. They hadn’t managed to squeeze a word out of him despite the fact that he was willing to sit down and eat dinner with them. It made for an uncomfortable meal, but it wasn’t the first time Jack had to endure a bout of silence with Ray. Being passive aggressive was his thing, and if he didn’t want to talk, he would just clam up. Jack worried about Ray, and why he wouldn’t talk to them, though. He didn’t want to force Ray to talk about it when he obviously wasn’t ready, but Jack worried about Ray, wanted him to know how much he cared for him. 

Ray’s silence was irritating Geoff though, that much was obvious. Instead of reacting like he usually would, Geoff just chewed his food and stared holes into the table. Jack wasn’t about to be the one to get in the middle, although he wasn’t sure just what the problem was. Ray was angry about something, but he was nearly positive it wasn’t about the vision, or the fact that Jack and Geoff were together. He’d worked that out after a chaste kiss in front of Ray hadn’t caused any sort of reaction.

Still, that was two days ago, and the silence just went on. Geoff had snapped once, shortly after the meeting with the Vagabond and his cohorts, but when it failed to yield answers, he’d stopped trying. Two days of them all being on edge was starting to drive Jack up the wall.

Then Ray stood, emptied the rest of his plate into the trash and dropped the dishes off into the sink with a small clatter. Pink rifle in hand, Ray climbed the ladder to his perch and Jack watched a purple sleeved arm close the hatch.

Jack sighed and stabbed at his own piece of broccoli, eyeing Geoff, who reached for the whiskey. Jack snatched it first and pulled it from within reach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“Fuck you. Give it back.”

“You’re just going to be an angry drunk and I’m not dealing with that again tonight.”

Geoff opened his mouth to sneer, but he reigned himself back in; “I can’t deal with all of this and the stress of inviting the _Vagabond_ into our home without some help.”

“Are you having second thoughts, then?” Jack leaned back, pushing a nearly empty plate away from him.

Geoff slumped forward, head resting on his arms with a scowl hidden behind the sleeves of his suit. “About the Vagabond or about Ray?”

“Both.” Jack thought about adding himself into the mix, but that was a bit much, for both of them. “You’ve hardly said a word to me either, so just fucking _talk_ to me, Geoff.”

“I don’t know what you want to know!” Geoff looked up,  getting defensive. That wasn’t what Jack wanted, and so he shrugged, placating.

“I want to hear what’s on your mind. You know, like someone who loves you usually does.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right card to play, a little too manipulative, but after a moment of silence, Geoff lifted his head up onto his left hand leaving his elbow digging into the table. He looked at Jack beseechingly, eyes pained. “I can’t figure out who he’s mad at. Is it me, is it the Vagabond? Is it the other Source he met that day? What is he mad about? Can I help, or do I just have to watch him be angry?”

“Honestly,” Jack admitted with a small grimace, “I have no idea. He just seems to be… _angry_ ,” Jack said, thoughtfully. He’d been wracking his brains to try and figure out why Ray was angry as well, so it wasn’t just Geoff frustrated at the lack of communication.

“Well, what the fuck for?” Now that he’d started, Geoff began to just let his frustration out, finally. Geoff always thought he needed to handle things on his own, even before they’d gotten together, but Jack was able to listen and talk Geoff through the things he couldn’t handle on his own. Jack was Geoff’s partner in more than one way, and he was there to support Geoff. He watched as Geoff gestured wildly, venting. “He was pissy the entire time we were making the deal. And now he just hangs up in his damn perch for hours and won’t talk to us. He barely can stand to be around us, and pretends like everything's just peachy.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely not handling this well, and not having enough communication is making us all tense. I think I’m going to give it another go and see if he’ll talk to me, sound good?” Jack folded his arms across his chest and stroked a bit at the small beard forming as Geoff nodded wearily, making a move to stand. “You should stay here, though, and try to calm down.”

“Fuck you, I’m calm!” Geoff protested. “I can negotiate with the best of them, what makes you think I can’t get him to talk?”

“You’re an asshole when you don’t get your way, and the last thing we need is a fight.” Jack stood, leaving his plate on the table. “Do the dishes while I’m up there. It’s your turn anyways.”

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.” Geoff waved him off. When Jack reached the ladder he called out softly. “I hope he talks to you.” Jack smiled.

“Me too.”

The climb up the perch wasn’t as long as he remembered, and after lifting the hatch a bit, he spotted Ray on the opposite side of the roof, rifle positioned down the street with an eye to the scope. Jack approached slowly, hands in pockets. He kept his distance, trying to keep a casual air and surveyed the city lights. It really was a pretty sight up here; they were perched up at the top of a hill—more a mountain than hill, but the house was fairly solitary. The only neighbors they had were at least a mile away, gates and fences marking their land.

The open space allowed for someone to more easily sneak up on them, however, and that had always been a concern for Ray, who was up here almost nightly to keep watch. It wasn’t strictly necessary, as they had cameras hidden in shrubbery and on the fences themselves, but Ray had always been a bit twitchy about security. Jack had assumed it started with the Source Hunters, all those months ago, but without knowing Ray’s past, there was no really way of telling. Jack hadn’t brought it up, and wouldn’t. He knew well enough to let Ray come to him for things that important.

“Ray,” he called softly, and Ray pulled away from the scope briefly to glance at him. “Listen, I’m not here to pry or start a fight, but you’ve got us concerned. Talk to me, please?”

Ray snorts softly and turns to look back through the scope. “I’m fine.”

Jack pursed his lips and made an effort not to change his stance. “Geoff thinks you’re mad at us.”

“Yeah, well he’s not _wrong_."

Jack reminds himself that the confession is a good sign, even if it hurts. “Okay,” Jack says, softly.

He lets the silence creep back in. He’d gotten an answer, and unless Ray wanted to give him more than that, there wasn’t a point in asking any more questions. Two days wasn’t very long, and even though Jack was the type to want to fix any problems as quickly as possible, Ray might just need some more time. He wanted to give Ray whatever time and space he needed while still letting him know he was wanted.

Still, awkward silence filled the space again, and Jack took one more appreciative look at the city skyline, trying to think of what to say to reassure Ray.

“Thanks for giving us that much. I know… I know this whole love thing is… shit, I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I’m sorry. We promised you all the time you need but… I guess I’ve been doubting myself a bit and if I’ve been putting too much pressure on you—”

“It’s not that.” Ray cut him off, tone flat and cold. “It’s not you.”

“Geoff then—” Jack guessed, but he snapped his mouth shut, not wanting to start a fight. Ray took the bait, regardless.

“It’s not _you_ , Jack, it’s _them_.” Ray pulled back from the scope. “They’re going to show up and fuck us over.”

“Ray,” Jack breathed, a little relieved and sick at the same time, “we aren’t walking into this blind. We’re going to negotiate and Geoff’s—“

“Geoff’s visions don’t mean shit! The future can be changed, just like it was with Craig.” Ray snarled, and the ferocity of it took Jack aback. “I can’t watch all three of them at the same time, asshole. You guys play off the Vagabond like he’s just a guy who’s good at his job, but you haven’t seen the aftermath, Jack. You came into the game way too late to know what he’s really capable of. And he doesn’t work as a fucking team. He’s using those two for his own gain and then second he gets the chance, he’s going to kill us.”

“You don’t know that.” Jack tried to placate. “You haven’t seen—”

“No one has! Geoff’s only seen snippets. He doesn’t know how long we have. It could be hours, or it could be days, but either way I can guarantee he’s going to turn on us. And that other Source is…” Snapping out of his angry rant, Ray scoffed and shouldered his rifle. “It doesn’t fucking matter. You’ve already gone and made the deal. The best I can do now is find a way to kill him first.”

“Is that why you’ve been distancing yourself?” Jack asked, and his heart sank. Not speaking to them, barely looking at them, was Ray just bracing for the day when they died? “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ray turned to him, silhouetted by the setting sun behind him, looking very tired. “You never asked, Jack.”

The breath was knocked from his lungs, and Jack took a shaky step back because— _fuck,_ they hadn’t. Immediately after the confession, the anxiety filled conversation of love and the future, they’d just thrust themselves into work, into finding some way to make this deal happen. They didn’t talk to Ray about it, just gave him the space he needed and it wasn’t as if they usually talked to him about bringing someone on board, but those hires weren’t going to live in the house.

“ _Fuck_ , Ray, I’m so sorry.” Ray looked away, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyebrows drawn down in distress. Jack felt like a real sack of shit. “I don’t—I don’t know how I forgot to do that. We should have talked to you about it, should have asked how you felt and we didn’t. Shit, I’m sorry. What a real pair of fuckups we are.”

“It’s fuckin’, whatever. I don’t want this to bite us in the ass, Jack.”

He took a minute to let out a shaky breath, to figure out what to say because he didn’t have much to offer except apologies and that wasn’t good enough. How the hell was Ray supposed to trust them as _lovers,_ when as just partners they neglected to include him in life changing decisions?

“Thank you—for telling me. I can’t take it back, but this will _never_ happen again.”

“They are going to kill us, Jack.” Ray told him softly, and turned to him. It was then Jack noticed the shaking in his hands, his small form hunched and even smaller. Vulnerable. “We have to take them out first.”

Jack’s heart sank lower, if that was even possible. “No, Ray, that’s not—”

“You’re going to die.” Ray insisted. “Geoff first, because it’s obvious that’s who they were after. Then me, because I’m a source.” He paced to the railing anxiously, looking out over the city. “Then you, if you stick around.”

“No,” Jack said slowly, in an effort to keep the panic he knew Ray was desperately trying to control to a minimum, “I know you don’t trust them right now, but Geoff saw…”

“We can’t _trust_ them, Jack!” This was a Ray Jack hadn’t seen before. Ray was usually laid back and didn’t worry about things, seeming to just take things in stride. He played up the ‘distracted video gamer that didn’t care about anything’ front, and to see him this torn up over the safety of himself and Geoff was heartbreaking. Jack wanted desperately to tell him everything. To tell him the truth, but he couldn’t.

Instead he said as confidently as he could, “Things may be different in the future, but one thing hasn’t changed, and that’s Geoff vision of us getting fucked over. We need them, and they’re just as suspicious as us right now, so let’s not go in guns blazing, alright? Give them a chance, give _us_ a chance to keep us all alive.”

Ray looked away again, quiet, but a little less distressed looking, if that was possible. “I’m not going to argue about it. It’s not like I have a choice now since you fuckers already made the decision, but know that I’ll be ready to kill them at any time. Until then, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Ray—”

“I don’t like it and I’m never going to like it, Jack, but I’ll hold off putting a bullet between their eyes because you haven’t led me wrong before.”

It was as good as he was going to get, he knew. Ray had reached his heart to heart limit and Jack was grateful he’d managed to get any sort of information out of him.

“Thank you,” and he tried to put as much weight as he could into those two words, “and,” He blinked, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry. Things are going to be rough for a while, and I’ll try to take care of as us all as much I can.”

Ray didn’t say anything more, turning to look out over the roof again, and Jack retreated back to the ladder. His chest hurt for more than one reason, and the pressure of trying to bridge the gap between Geoff and Ray once more only added to list of stresses.

The next couple of months were going to be hell, and he could only hope Geoff’s visions provided a bit more guidance. When his shoes touched carpet once more, Jack turned around to find Geoff no longer sitting at the kitchen table, the two plates sat untouched.

Of course. Quelling agitation and disappointment, Jack reached over the table and snagged the bottle of whiskey. Unscrewing the top, he took a gulp, wincing at the burn. The alcohol sat heavy in his stomach, but god did he need that drink. Slamming the bottle back down, he grabbed the dishes and tossed them with Ray’s in the sink. He’d do them later, after he figured out how to fix this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two days of badgering Ryan came and went, and it didn’t look like Ryan was going to budge in the slightest. He’d printed off charts, he’d come up with profit estimates, crew names, territory maps, everything he could think of to convince Ryan that this was a good idea, but he received the same half-assed responses and was waved off time and time again. And it wasn’t as if he was obnoxious about it. He pulled out his findings during meals, to fill in the awkward silences. He casually mentioned Ramsey’s impressive rumored weapons cache when Ryan told Michael to clean the automatics while he took stock of their ammo. Gavin did everything he could think of, but to no avail. 

By the end of the third day they still hadn’t talked about whether or not they were going to join

Ramsey or not, and Gavin paced nervously around the warehouse. He bounced his knees whenever he sat and tapped on every single surface his hands could reach. Michael had told him to stop asking about whether or not Ryan was going to say yes nearly thirty times already and with the sun setting, Gavin was just about at his limit.

Michael had left him on his own an hour ago, having had enough of his nervous energy. Things hadn’t quite gone back to normal between them, but Gavin did his best to open up a bit, to explain what he was doing on the computer and how he was hacking into Ramsey’s crew’s social media. Social media was a treasure trove of information, and it was Gavin’s favorite go to. There wasn’t a single gangster in the city that could resist the temptation to show off their luxurious life of crime.

Geoff Ramsey was no different, but it was clear he was careful. His crew on the other hand, were reckless. Pictures of the Ramsey house, pictures of safe houses, pictures of the crew and some of the younger associates they worked with… all of it was easy to piece together if you bothered to look.

And that Source, the one going by ‘Brownman’, he really enjoyed social media. Trendy jokes and memes were his thing, and in the span of three hours, Gavin felt like he had a good idea of what he was like. Gavin’s own sense of humor and personality would match up great with the other Source’s, Ryan just needed to say _yes_.

With a frustrated groan, Gavin launched himself out of the computer chair and stalked out of the office. Michael was messing with something in one of the storage rooms down on the ground floor, and he nodded briefly at Gavin, but Ryan was nowhere to be found. Agitated, Gavin pushed open the doors to outside and squinted against the sun in his eyes.

Somewhere to his left, there was the sound of something breaking. A hand cupped over the top of his eyes, Gavin was able to spot Ryan kicking at the outside of one of the greenhouses. Shoulders squared, he prepared himself to confront the masked man. Without getting so far as a step forward, two hands set themselves heavily on his shoulders. With a yelp, Gavin whirled around, eyes narrowed accusingly.

“Michael! What was that for?”

“What do you think you’re you doing?” Michael’s tone suggested that he knew exactly what Gavin was about to do, but Gavin humored him anyways with an indignant squawk.

“I’m going to make Ryan make up his damn mind! I can’t stand waiting anymore!”

“Just leave him alone. You’re gonna piss him off, and then he’ll say no.”

“It’s two against one, Michael. We’re equal partners, remember? He can’t just say no anymore.” Michael raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Is that how it’s worked in the last two months we’ve been his bitches?”

Heat flared up into his cheeks and ears and while Michael had a good point, it wasn’t going to stop him. He’d done all the research, he’d stated his facts, and Ryan was just being stubborn about the whole thing. A big, giant baby who wasn’t getting his way, so he just ignored them and did his own thing.

“I’m not going to let him bully his way out of this one.” Gavin shrugged off the hands and strode forward, pointedly ignoring the way Ryan’s foot cleaved through a burnt board like it was paper. Michael followed behind him, arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t sure if Michael would back him up this time, but it was comforting to have him there anyways. “Ryan!”

The masked man turned at the sound of his name and by the time Gavin stood face to face with him, his confidence had waned a bit. But he reminded himself that Ryan once flubbed up a sentence so bad he’d left the room back at the old safe house. And he was weird about animals. And he only halfway sucked at video games, but he had a strangely posh vocabulary.

“What?”

“Say yes or no!” Gavin demanded, hands on his hips. “I’m tired of waiting for an answer.”

“He means about Ramsey.” Michael filled in, amusement in his voice. Gavin tried not to be embarrassed and mentally decided to make fun of Michael in front of Ryan sometime in the near future.

“I said I needed to think.”

“You’ve had three bloody days! I’ve done all the research, all the work, and you’ve just blown me off. Are we going to meet with them tomorrow or not?”

“He’s right, you know. I can’t get him off the damn computer.” Michael took a hesitant step forward, hands in his pockets like he always did he was a bit unsure about something. Ryan was a scary bastard, it was true, but in the nearly blinding sunset it was harder to get a read on body language and they could both pretend he was just a normal bloke.

Ryan took a deep breath, and when he spoke Gavin nearly choked on his own spit. “Alright.”

“Wot?” Gavin blinked.

“You heard me, Gavin.” Ryan’s voice lowered. “I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to argue?”

“Do you want me to argue? I can come up with ten reasons why it’s a bad idea right now if that’s what you really want.” Ryan took a step forward and his mask blocked out the setting sun for Gavin. His posture was rigid, threatening. “I’ll tell you exactly how this is going to play out if that’s what you really want.”

Gavin swallowed. “No, that’s not what I want. I _want_ you to be on board. I want you to want this too.”

“Going with Ramsey is a mistake, but you’ve been a real pain in the ass about it. If it means that much to you two to march to our deaths this way, _fine_. I’ll trust you and let you take the blame when it all goes south. And it will, believe me. It won’t be right away, but they’ll turn on us, and when that time comes I’m going to leave you both there to sort out your own mess.”

Gavin gazed into Ryan’s eyes beseechingly, and shakily replied, “We could run to him anyways, Ryan, but we’ve trusted you. You’ve followed the rules and so have we, so if it all goes to hell I’ll still link with you and I’ll do my best to help fight because it’s been just me and Michael for a long time, but now it’s the three of us. So you abandon us if you want, but we want you there with us.”

Ryan drew in another breath, held it for a moment, and seemed to be thinking of what to say. A beat passed, and Gavin and Michael watched with wide eyes as hands reached up and lifted the skull mask that they’d come to make fun of instead of fear. The rubber was lifted, revealing a face painted in a pattern in black, red, and white. Blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and Gavin didn’t know what to do. Even with face paint on, he was obviously handsome. Ryan was _attractive_ and Gavin sat with his mouth agape, stunned into silence.

“Holy shit.” Michael murmured behind him.

“This time, I’ll trust you.” Ryan said and it was unnerving to actually see a mouth move to the words. His voice unobstructed caused Gavin’s hair to stand on end, it was just so _deep,_ but he swallowed the shock.

“That’s… you’re more normal than I expected.”

“But why the face paint though?” Michael asked. He seemed to be reeling as well, but holding it together enough to wonder.

Ryan merely shrugged. “In case someone took off the mask.”

“You’ve been double layering this whole time?” Michael sighed and rubbed at his nose. “Should’ve fucking known. Well, I have something to share then, too.”

And then Michael stepped forward, tugged hard at Gavin’s shoulder to spin him around, cupped his face and full on kissed him, right there in front of Ryan. The kiss was easy to fall into, despite the shock, and Gavin wasn’t sure how much time had passed before they broke apart, breathing heavy. He stared into Michael’s twinkling eyes, trusting him to explain it to Ryan. They hadn’t wanted him to have even more leverage over them before, but it was time for him to know. Gavin was real sick of playing it ‘no homo’, he wanted to be able to kiss his boyfriend whenever he wanted, dammit.

A beat, and Gavin turned back to Ryan, flushed and slightly worried. Gavin hissed when he found the strength to speak. “Wha—Michael!”

“What? Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring, dumbass. That was just a reminder as to who your boyfriend is.” Michael shrugged, still smirking slightly. “Besides, trust for trust. We’re _partners_ , remember? If we’re doing this, we’re doing it as team. Gav and I are a thing,” Michael explained, and Gavin blinked away the stars and willed the blush of embarrassment to leave.

Ryan’s mouth tilted down in just the slightest of movements before neutralizing again. “I pegged you as more brotherly, but I should have seen this coming. Well, whatever.”

Gavin analyzed every inch of Ryan’s features. It was hard because of the face paint, but he found no trace of uncertainty. Relationship bomb aside, he threw out a hesitant, “You’re really on board, then?”

“We leave early tomorrow morning.” And Ryan threw his mask in the dirt and went back to kicking at the greenhouse.

Gavin couldn’t help the bird like sounds of awe and confusion, but as Michael tugged him along to go back inside, Gavin cupped his hands next to his mouth and shouted, “We had sex in your bed!”

Michael tugged at him harder but added, “Twice!” and while he was disappointed he didn’t get to see Ryan’s face, the straightening of his back was enough to have them giggling once inside.

“He’s gonna fucking kill us.” Michael snickered, and squeezed Gavin’s hand a bit pointedly. Gavin realized he wasn’t the only one that had missed the contact between them.

“You’re the one who just full on kissed me out there!” Gavin pouted, but his laughter ruined the effect. “What if he wasn’t into it?” Gavin complained, “He could’ve been a real prick about it.”

“What, like it wasn’t worth it to see his reaction?” Gavin thought back to the stunned look on Ryan’s face—the _Vagabond’s face_ —and nodded slightly, chuckling. Michael rolled his eyes. “Come on, the guy wears a mask and ate hotdogs for like three weeks straight. There’s no way he isn’t into freaky things himself.”

“What do you think it is? It’s gotta be something real kinky, right?"

“Oh, I’ve got some ideas.” Michael grinned, and when they made it back to the office, he pulled up the internet browser and Gavin’s eyes widened at the search Michael typed in.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. We're late again. Sorry guys, but we've been working on a new writing system to get back on track! Thank you so much for the kind words and sticking with us!

Ray could clearly see Jack eye him through the side mirror of the car, and threw up his hood in exasperation. He had given a promise and  _ still  _ the man worried he might go off script. Which he’d never done before- but the second he doesn’t share the same opinion, Ray’s a danger to them all. The worst part was that Jack wouldn’t say anything, he’d just keep the worry to himself and pretend not to be silently wondering if Ray had lied to him.

It was aggravating and Ray wanted to flip him the bird, but he held back. He was going to be cool during the meeting, and when it all went south he’d write a big “ _ fuck you, I was right _ ” on their graves. For now, he focused on remembering the powers. A few bribes to Michael’s old gang had Michael pinned as someone who could manipulate gravity. The Vagabond was mostly unknown, but footage from a high speed chase after a robbery led them to believe he had some sort of teleporting abilities.

At least, that was before Geoff had walked in casually eating a sandwich while Jack and Ray analyzed the few seconds they had over and over again in the living room. A simple,  _ “Nah, he’s got super speed.” _ had them throwing their hands up in frustration. The amount of detail Geoff Ramsey could pull from the visions  _ days _ after he had them was an astonishing trait. Shaky, sweaty, and out of breath, he usually spewed what he could remember before popping some serious migraine medicine and passing out. Days later, though, he’d go on about specific conversation snippets, or he’d conveniently remember that they needed to go to a specific restaurant to catch sight of their next target.

Ray had half a mind to blow him off, but Geoff had impeccable accuracy. There was no winning, and however Geoff had to spin his vision excuse to get what he wanted, he’d do it. With everything except this magical love triangle he and Jack were so nervous about.

Shaking himself out of that train of thought, he closed his eyes and focused more on strategizing against speed and gravity. It would be difficult, but Jack’s shields held up against most things, and as long as they had the shield up in an instant, they’d likely be able to combat the speed. The gravity… well, the shield would either hold or crumble. The real trick there was endurance. They didn’t know how long Gavin had been a Source to Michael and the Vagabond as well as how long he could keep a line going.

That was thing with Sources. Unless they got lucky and figured out how not to let an Inheritor suck every last drop of life they had, they never were around long enough to figure out that the line was more like a muscle. The longer the link was established and used, the easier it was to pull energy through. New links were a large drain, but a well established link was hardly a strain, as long as the Inheritor kept a steady pace.

It was why he and Jack worked so well together. Jack’s keen sense and mothering skills made for a smooth and relatively painless draw. They could keep a shield going for a couple of hours, if needed.

Geoff, on the other hand, had little control of his powers when in drawing. The amount drawn was a wild card and depended mostly on how intense and detailed the vision. That was why they scheduled time for visions, twice a week,  _ always _ with Jack there to keep an eye out.

“How you doing back there?” Geoff asked, voice a bit gruff. Probably a bit hung over, if the bottles in the recycling bin that morning said anything.

“Fine.”

He may be cool with Jack, for the most part after their talk, but this whole thing was with Geoff. Geoff and his stupid visions. Jack eyed him again through the mirror and Ray slumped a little further in his seat.

“Stick to the plan. We give them a chance to negotiate.” Geoff ordered, and Ray glared out the window. “Nobody dies today, boys.”

Jack didn’t say anything, not even a hum of agreement. He was nervous. Geoff’s tapping on the steering wheel echoed the same message.

It was a fairly long drive to the hangar, and once they got there a hideous orange mini-van greeted them. Ray reached between his legs and picked up the pink sniper rifle from the floor of the backseat. They hadn’t been expecting these assholes to be early.

They were two hours early themselves, wanting to set up a bit of extra security. Geoff hadn’t rolled his eyes at the suggestion, for once, so his fingers clenching against the leather of the steering wheel did little to calm Ray’s nerves.

The Vagabond was one fucked up son of a bitch, but he wasn’t stupid. There was no way that mini-van was there without some sort of purpose and it was either a peaceful sign, one to announce their presence without cause for suspicion, or the very opposite. For them to see this revolting beast in the middle of the parking lot, parked crooked and taking up three spaces, could have them go investigate and have it blow up in their faces. Literally.

Either way, Ray didn’t like it. Why couldn’t the psychopath just be normal and show up at the specified time?

“Your call, Ray.” Jack spoke soft, grave, and for a second Ray felt like he missed something, but Geoff hadn’t moved, eyes trained on the mini-van.

“Stay here.” Ray ordered, and got out of the car.

He used the car as cover, used trained eyes to find even a hint of life on the roofs, behind a corner, or under anything. No guns, no people. The door to the hangar was ajar. They must have kicked it in, and while that boded well for no outside traps, the inside was riddled with clever hiding places and with the hangar itself being so wide and open, there wasn’t a lot of cover to take should things pop off the second they get inside.

With a quick nod to Jack, who elbowed Geoff, the two of them joined him outside of the car.

“Your visions cover any of this?” Ray snipped, not meaning to put heat behind the words but they leaked in anyways.

“Nope. Not even the negotiation.” Geoff answered without a beat, popping the trunk. He snatched a small handgun and tucked it in the back of his suit pants. After adjusting the jacket of his tuxedo—because Geoff insisted on wearing the damn thing to all of their meetings—Jack was given a nod and Ray was given a look he understood all too well.

Their small corner they’d cut out for themselves would never be safe. The city was full of assholes who desperately wanted to tear them down and take their place, that’s just how it was. The look was full of emotion, despite being brief. Determination to get things done and get home safe, amusement because Geoff wouldn’t be head of the crew unless he genuinely enjoyed the danger, and a brief glimpse of a farewell, just in case there wasn’t time during the shit storm looming over them.

He never gave the look to Jack, but Ray half suspected it was because they’d given it to each other too many times to really bother anymore. It was always unspoken between of them and Ray recalled an evening where they shared how they wanted to go out, and Jack’s answer was unexpected.

_ “I don’t want to see it coming. Fuck going with dignity, fuck going out in a blaze of glory, just let death take me while I’m not looking.” _

Jack was moving then, an assault rifle in hand and Geoff was quick to follow. Ray stifled a sigh and raised his pink sniper rifle. This was going to get ugly.

Cautiously, they moved through the busted in door and into the hangar. Three figures stood up on the catwalk along the perimeter of the hangar. The Vagabond stood to the left of the Source, and the other Inheritor, Michael, to the right. Both were armed, and from the look on Michael’s face, this was  _ definitely _ going to get ugly. Ray responded immediately to the soft pull and knew Jack sensed the same thing.

“You’re early!” the Source called, and he was smiling, but Ray wouldn’t put it past him to be a nervous smiler.

“So are you.” Geoff responded and still led them further into the room. They were at a disadvantage, being down below the three of them, but they’d been in worse spots before. Height was merely a pride and intimidation thing anyhow; one of Geoff’s favorite tactics. Ray felt the buzz of Inheritors nearby and tried to ignore the feeling.

The Source shrugged, “We thought it would be rude to keep you waiting.”

Ray frowned and scrunched his nose to push his glasses a little higher up. The Vagabond was stock still, a finger on the trigger of his own assault rifle. He was too far away for Ray to see the rise and fall of his chest, but the stance of him was suspicious. A possible dummy? Michael wasn’t giving anything away, just watching back and shifting his weight every once in awhile.

“Well, it seems we both had the same idea. Let’s get the ball rolling then, shall we?”

Gavin swallowed and turned to the Vagabond. Not a dummy then. There was some sort of noise, but it was too faint to decipher what exactly it was. On guard, Ray kept his eyes on Michael. Still nothing.

“Right,” Gavin said, and leaned against the railing, “we have come to a decision. We would be willing to join up, but we have a list of conditions.”

“All due respect, but isn’t it the leader’s role to be demanding terms?” Geoff asked, hands in pockets. “I deal with those on the same level.”

The Vagabond shifted, but it was Michael who spoke. “We’re done with that. We’re equal now, and this was Gavin’s idea, so he’s the one you’re gonna talk to.”

Geoff gave a shrug, “Fair enough. Go on then, I’ll hear your terms.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught Jack shifting slightly, turned more angular in with a slightly relaxed posture. A show of good faith. Ray did his best to mirror him, but he didn’t like the way Michael was focusing in on him.

“Right,” Gavin took in a deep breath, “we want out at any time. We aren’t here to join your gang.”

“No deal. We’re treating this like a contract. You’re in it until that bastard kicks the bucket, then you’re free to walk.” Geoff pulled a hand out to wave off the demand. “You aren’t a part of my gang, I’m hiring you to do a job. Help us kill the Corpirate before he kills us all and I’ll pay you a lot of fucking cash. That’s it.”

Gavin faltered, looked back to the Vagabond and the gruff, “This is what you wanted, you do the talking.” was the response. Whipping back around, Gavin puffed out his chest a bit.

“Then as contractors, we don’t take orders. It’s a democracy, we vote and all that.”

Geoff offered an agreeable shrug. “Anything else, Gavin?”

“No cameras, no tails. We come and go as please.”

Ray narrowed his eyes. What, were they supposed to spy on them the whole time? Why anyone would spend their time watching this idiot flail about was a mystery. Ray would be watching, but he wasn’t going to waste his time trying to follow the Vagabond around. If they were going to be murdered, they were going to see it coming. It was the Vagabond’s style and vastly different than his own. Ray preferred to get them from afar, give himself the most time possible to make a hasty escape if he had to.

“You don’t take any of our shit.” came Geoff’s counter term, and here was where it got interesting. The back and forth wasn’t something Geoff was necessarily good at, and when he was losing an argument the man often fell back on childish tactics rather than logical counter arguments, but it was that childishness that often exasperated negotiators and quickened the pace of the negotiation. And when someone was in a hurry to close a deal they often overlooked how a simple demand could fuck over their entire deal.

“You don’t take ours.” Gavin shot back, crossing his arms. “And you supply us with anything we need.”

“Fine, but we share information. You find out anything regarding the Corpirate and you spill the beans. We do the same.”

“Alright, speaking of sharing,” Gavin spoke a little slower, a little more serious and the hairs on the back Ray’s neck stood on end. He had a bad feeling about the next words to come out of the Brit’s mouth. “I’ll link with just you two, and your Source will link with Michael and Ry—The Vagabond.”

Geoff was quiet and still, and his eyes never strayed from Gavin. “What for?”

“Wha—Well because we’ll get more powers! It isn’t fair if you could use me but we couldn’t use him.” Gavin explained like it was simplest transaction in the world.

Fuck this. Ray wanted to lift his gun and put a bullet between his eyes. Ray turned a bit more toward Geoff, hands tightening around his rifle. Geoff glanced back, could clearly see the warning look Ray was giving him.

No, fuck no. Geoffrey—

“Our Source isn’t good with strangers.” Geoff replied coolly, and Ray took his eyes away from him to glare back at Michael, who looked equally as uncomfortable.

That was weird. So Michael wasn’t completely on board with Source swapping, which painted it as the Vagabond’s idea, but from the only thing the Vagabond had said so far, he didn’t seem to be on board with any of it. That left this as entirely Gavin’s idea and why a Source would want to voluntarily throw himself to the wolves could only be explained by pure idiocy.

“Well he could just snap the line, yeah? Same goes for me. I’m not about to be sucked dry just to see what new powers pop out. We’ll play it smart and safe.”

“Snap the line?” Jack asked, eyes flitting to meet Ray’s own for a second, before focusing back on Gavin, looking just as confused.

“You don’t know how to snap a line?” The question was directed at Ray, but had no interest in responding to the fuck. At the lack of response, Gavin continued hesitantly. “Huh, I thought everyone could… you just, cut the line. Stop the flow. It’s—I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Great. Very insightful, but Ray’s still not fond of linking and I’m not about to force the issue.” 

Geoff dismissed. “Is that all of them, then?

Gavin deflated. “No, but this one is important. We’ve got to trust each other and if this Corpirate is as bad as you say, wouldn’t it be smart to come up with something new? He already knows about yours, doesn’t he? And if he’s been paying a lick of attention to us, then he already knows what we can do. Surprising him with new powers is the best option.”

“Fuck you.” Ray muttered.

“He has a point, Ray.” Jack offered quietly. “It wasn’t hard to find out what they could do, and there’s too many people who know what we can do.”

“Your life’s not the one on the line.” Ray snapped back.

“What if I teach you how to snap the line? There’s no danger because you could always cut it off if things get ugly.” Gavin was leaning forwards against the rail, and Ray saw Michael reach out and pull him back a bit. “Michael’s real careful and it took a bit of practice, but Ryan’s not so bad.”

A leg came out to kick at the back of Gavin’s calf and he yelped. “Vagabond.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said!” Gavin argued, reaching down to rub at his shin.

“You clearly said Ryan.” Michael shook his head. “He had like one rule.”

“They already know your name!”

“That’s not the point!” The Vagabond growled and kicked again. “It’s a respect thing.”

“Ow! Ryan—Rye—okay, okay!”

Fucking idiots. Geoff was actually smiling and Jack was clearly trying to stifle a giggle. But when Geoff looked back at him, eyebrows raised with a hopeful look, Ray grimaced.

“You really want to risk it?” Ray muttered, quiet and the words felt like ash in his mouth. “You willing to throw me away to possibly win?”

And Geoff’s eyebrows fell and his face went stony and serious, voice just as low so the others couldn’t hear, he answered. “We can’t win without them. I know you don’t trust them as much as I do, but the visions are right. If I don’t risk it, I  _ will _ lose you. But I won’t force this on you. You want to walk away without them, we do it.”

It was the kind of talk he’d wanted all along, instead of feeling like he was forced into this. He wanted Geoff to sit down and reassure him with absolute certainty that if they did this it would be fine, as much as Ray knew in his heart it was never going to be. The Vagabond was too unpredictable, Gavin too damn stupid for this to work. But Geoff was sure, and he was scared too, and he was  _ asking _ Ray to do this.

He was still angry, because Geoff Ramsey should have talked to him weeks ago. Ray was dead, no doubt about it, but Jack was willing to try, and Geoff finally let Ray make this decision, so he swallowed back the rejection and gave one last look up at the still bickering trio on the catwalk.

“If I do this—if at any point I feel like they’re going to kill us, Geoff, you have to let me kill them.”

Geoff’s face didn’t change and he answered again, sure and steady. “They won’t, but if you need to, Ray, I’ll trust you to do it quick.”

Absolute, unwavering faith in him. Ray’s heart stuttered and he swallowed thickly. “Hey, idiot!”

Gavin whirled around so fast, Michael had reached out to grab at his shirt to keep him from falling over the railing. “What?”

“You teach me how to snap a line and I’ll do it.”

It was like Ray had just told him he won a car; Gavin’s smile was wide and bright, his eyes were big and his gangly limbs were practically shaking in joy.

“All powers must be revealed then. No secret shit from any of us.” Geoff added, “and if anyone feels in a knife in the back mood, all three of you face the consequences. Same for us.”

Ray could still kill them then, they just couldn’t get caught doing it. Build trust without completely eliminating options.

“Alright, but you’ve got to share your visions then. You can see the future, yeah?”

Geoff pursed his lips. “Only if you’re involved. I see more than just if we’re gonna die, you know. Some of it’s personal.”

“How personal?” Michael asked, eyes narrowed.

“Personal enough that you might not want everyone to know all of your business coming up.” Geoff answered honestly. “Sex life, romance, what kind of shit you’re going to take, that kind of shit.”

“Fine, but you tell anyone involved.” Gavin agreed, and Ray spotted the Vagabond—or Ryan, apparently, though Ray doubted they’d ever use the name Ryan Haywood in the hopefully short time they worked together—shrink back a bit, uncomfortable, but he didn’t protest. Odd, considering it seemed like he was the one running the show before this whole negotiation.

“If that’s all of yours, we’ve got a couple.” Jack piped up, shoulders loose now that they had mostly agreed to work together. “We take Ray’s safety very seriously. Source’s are the biggest edge and our best defense and we can’t afford to lose him. I trust you feel the same about Gavin.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, “and as long you defend Gavin, we defend Ray.”

Jack smiled. “Just by how you interact, I can tell you have the same mindset. That’s very different than how we’ve seen others operate. We could collect Sources all day long but I’ve seen way too many Sources die from not being treated like actual human beings. We aren’t here for the power, you know.”

“Jack.” Geoff warned, but Jack waved him off.

“If they’re going to work with us, they need to know what kind of people we are. We don’t hurt kids, we don’t hurt the community, and we stay on top so bigger pieces of shit aren’t running the show. I’d rather do as little damage to the city as possible and be the bad guy than watch someone else come in and ruin everything. It’s why we do this. The Corpirate, he’s in purely for the power.”

Ray had been pleasantly surprised, nine months ago to find Geoff and Jack weren’t the typical gangsters he’d come to avoid. Work for, sure, but he wasn’t about to join. Geoff didn’t just see him as a Source and Jack didn’t just see him as a sniper. They asked for his opinion, found out how he felt about other gangs and targeted the less pleasant ones first. What started as a small smuggling business had grown to well oiled machine, and all of its parts were loyal and steadfast. Not a single person Jack hired stank of the sort to sell them out or vie for power.

Bitterness swept back in. To add these three, especially the Vagabond, known for turning on anyone at a moment’s notice could potentially ruin everything.

“Well that’s different.” was all Gavin had to say and Michael shrugged. They couldn’t fucking care less. Assholes.

“If you guys decide to stay, we’ll have you. If you go, we give each other six months before trying to slit each other’s throats.” Geoff suggested. “Gives us both enough time to change locks, move locations, you know. I’d rather take you on equal grounds.”

The Vagabond muttered something, but Ray couldn’t make it out. Gavin quickly translated. “Ry— _ The Vagabond _ —says we share the loot equally.”

“Done.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal then, Geoff Ramsey.”

“You’re going to have to come down here and shake my hand, buddy. It ain’t an official deal until then.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support so far! It has really meant a lot to Echo and myself and we are celebrating reaching over 100k word count! It only took 100,000 words for the six main characters to actually willingly be in the same place...
> 
> Well, we hope you enjoy some new powers!

Michael scowled at the scope of the pink rifle pointed at them from the car in front of them, adjusting his seat belt. They were behind Geoff’s car, following them to the new safe house they’d be practicing linking and trading information.

“So much for not being hostages. Assholes have us at fucking gunpoint!” Michael muttered, and made a show to flip Ray the bird. “You’re sure you aren’t gonna regret this Gavin?”

“It’s the best option.” Gavin replied.

“Is it? I’m not exactly looking forward to teaching them how to cut a line.”

“If I didn’t agree, they wouldn’t have taken the deal.”

“Sure, but now we can’t trick that other Source now.” Ryan made a tsking sound behind the mask. “There’s a reason it was so easy to get them to agree.”

Gavin leaned forward, between the seats. “What are you on about?”

“As soon as we get there, they’re going to want to get linking out of the way. It’s going to put you at close to empty, right?” He went on without waiting for an answer. “If you and the other Source are both worn down, it takes using powers out of play for the rest of today, at least.”

Michael felt Gavin hit the back of his seat in rapid succession. “That’s fine, but Michael, look at the size of the place, Michael!”

Michael saw the large white house in the distance, at the top of the winding hill they were following Geoff up. The gate they eventually slowed to a stop in front of was impressive. Tall, white metal encompassed what looked to be the entire length of the property, and if Michael’s shit eyes could see correctly, cameras were mounted regularly along the fence. 

“It looks like a fucking white picket fence.” Michael shook his head at the absurdity.

“It’s very… American. And ginormous.”

“The bigger the better, right?”

The car in front of them came to a stop in front of the fence, and Ramsey’s right hand man, Jack, stepped out from the driver’s seat and approached a small pin pad. The gate beeped loudly soon after, and swung open slowly, giving Jack time to hop back in the car and continue forward. Michael wasn’t easily impressed by a house, but it was situated on five or more acres, and the extra space to wander out and about was a refreshing sight. The hill wasn’t that steep up at the top, and it rolled in a countryside romantic way. There were a few trees—no doubt with cameras in them, because of course there would be—and out in the distance, toward the back of the property, what looked to be a small creek running through.

Gavin was right, the place was fucking _nice_.

The house was modern in style, white and sleek. It was two stories and very wide, with floor to ceiling windows on the first floor. A long verandah looked out toward the city. The second floor was an interesting layout, at least from the outside, leaving the roof uneven, height wise. One room Michael could see even had a balcony.

“A pool!” Gavin whispered loudly, pointing. “It’s massive!”

On the east side, where there were fewer windows, the pool stretched. If Michael squinted, he could see an outside bar next to it. He glanced at Gavin and grinned. They’d be having some swimmy bevs soon. The house itself wasn’t gated, and if Michael wasn’t so tense, he’d feel welcomed. Flicking his eyes back to Ray, still propped in the back seat with his gun ruined the mood.

“Remember the plan if things go south.” Ryan warned before pulling into the long driveway and turning off the ignition.

“Yeah,” Michael muttered, and reluctantly opened his car door, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

It was only after Geoff and Jack were out of the car and leaning against the back of it, that Ray got out as well. He stayed off to the side, gun still in hand and eyes trained carefully on them. Michael knew the look, having had to keep the same watch on Gavin back when it was just the two of them.

“Welcome to your new home, gentlemen!” Geoff threw his hands up in a showmanship type fashion. “There’s more than enough room for all of us, but there’s a few things we should go over once inside. And trust me, the inside is as impressive as the outside.” He was grinning, and seemed legitimately excited to show them around. Michael kept his face neutral, but if they were to be treated like guests rather than hostages, he might even have a good time here.

“You’ve all got your own rooms up on the second floor.” Jack explained. “We respect privacy here, so there aren’t any locks. That being said, don’t rifle through our shit. All of the doors to the outside, including the balcony have key codes. We’ll give you the one to the front door, but it’ll be a while before we’re comfortable giving you the rest.”

“What about the gate?” Ryan asked, and while his hands were limp at his side, Michael had learned to read the tension in his shoulders and the terse tone in his voice. He was not pleased, but he wasn’t bitching, which was oddly worrying. He had come up with a backup plan, but aside from that, abstained from saying much to either of them on the way up.

“Also in due time. Let us know when you want to leave and we’ll be happy to open it for you. Same with coming back, there’s a call button there. Security takes precedence, we hope you understand.” Jack offered a small smile, and it looked genuine enough. Probably wasn’t good enough for Ryan, if Michael knew him. “As agreed, we won’t be monitoring you. There are no cameras in the house, just the ones outside for security.”

That was almost disappointing, and Michael didn’t dare look at Gavin. He knew Gavin was looking forward to cracking into the cameras to see what he could dredge up, but there were other ways to get that information. He kept his eyes on Ray, instead, and was met with the same flat stare back. Normally it incited a challenge, to stare so unapologetically at someone, but Ray’s posture was just about as relaxed as Michael’s, and Michael smirked at him and lifted his chin just a bit to stare down at him, enjoying putting on a show. 

It was just business, an arrangement that they needed to get through. It was almost like a small agreement between the two of them; Michael was going to watch out for his own, and Ray his. Nothing funny, nothing sneaky, just a straight up promise of death should anything happen.

Michael could respect that, even from someone he didn’t trust.

“Alright, we should get the linking over and done with and see what fancy ass new powers we all have.” Geoff suggested and rubbed his hands together eagerly. Michael caught Ray tensing at the same time he did.

“Geoff.” Jack’s voice was soft, and it was enough to drag Michael’s attention from Ray to the two of them. Jack stuck close to Geoff at the trunk of their car. Ray was more off to the side of the car, slightly more protected in the event of a fire fight going down. It was probably a smarter formation than the one they had taken, with Gavin being in the middle of Michael and Ryan, out in the open space between parked cars. Jack was about to say more, but Gavin interrupted.

“Alright,” Gavin agreed, and Michael opened his mouth to protest. It was way too early for this shit. They were just barely past the stage of trying to kill each other. “But first I need to show Ray how to snap the line. Safety protocol.”

Gavin’s flashed an almost crafty smile at Michael. Michael didn’t give one back, instead pulling his attention back to Ray, who looked slightly disgusted. Jack spoke up first, sounding strained.

“You wanna explain that for those of us who still have no clue as to what the fuck that is?” There was irritation bleeding into Jack’s tone, and Michael narrowed his eyes as Gavin explained.

“It’s—well, when you link—if an Inheritor is taking too much, you can just snap the line. They can’t draw from you anymore.” Gavin gave a halfhearted shrug and Michael noticed that he’d left out entirely the part where it hurts like hell. “You can always start the line up again, but it’ll stop it quickly.”

“Ray?” Geoff asked without looking at his Source, and Michael thought it was odd, the way they almost didn’t pay any attention to him. Not even Jack was looking back at the guy.

“Fine.”

“Lovely!” Gavin clapped his hands together and Michael rolled his eyes. “Michael, Ryan, which one of you will show them how it’s done? Ray, you’ll need an Inheritor to test it on.”

Gavin flashed a guilty smile at Michael and he grimaced, knowing what was coming. There was no way Ryan was going to volunteer to be snapped. Ryan’s posture hadn’t changed, and without being able to see his eyes, Michael couldn’t tell who or what held the Vagabond’s attention. He nodded to Gavin, and stepped closer to him.

Opposite of them, Ray had come forward a bit and glanced at Jack, who had finally looked at him and gave a small bob of his head. They moved closer together as well, and waited.

“Step one, start the link.” Gavin instructed, and Michael felt the flood of warmth from his hands, automatically starting to draw from Gavin. After so many months and so many times, his body was on autopilot, instantly reacting to the smallest nudge of power. “Michael, if you would.”

A demonstration, then, to show that they were linked. Gavin was theatrical when he wanted to be, and of course he wanted to show off after his last encounter with Ramsey’s Source.

With a small wave of his hand, some fallen leaves on the grass made their ascent. The leaves stayed floating, but they swished about in the wind here and there.

“You can feel a link, yeah?” Gavin waved his hand, as if that helped explain anything. “Michael’s pulling at me. You just feel the line, feel where it is, and then you _pull back hard_ —”

The clipped last words were the only warning Michael got before pain filled all five senses at once. He swayed a bit, curling into himself at the shock of it, and it took a minute for the pain to reside. Michael felt sweat begin to cling to him underneath his jacket from the intensity of the pain, and when he could breathe properly again, his eyes immediately sought out Gavin’s.

Gavin was crumpled on the ground next to him, face scrunched up in agony. Michael offered a gentle touch, a reminder that he was here. The pain soon passed for him as well, and Gavin looked up with a wounded, but cheeky smile.

“It hurts, but it gets the job done.” Gavin admitted, and he accepted the hand Michael offered.

Once his Source was back on his feet, Michael turned his gaze to the almost horrified expressions on Jack and Geoff’s faces. Ray’s brows were furrowed, and the neutral expression he had warped into a troubled frown.

“What the fuck?” Geoff said, and turned to Jack and Ray, who just continued to stare.

“Look, it sucks dicks, but it’s better than being drained.” Michael explained curtly. “Shocked the hell out of me the first time he did it, but he’s right. It gets the job done and keeps him alive. Same thing will happen to you if you try to take too much.”

“So that’s how you’ve done it.” Ray muttered, and then carefully leaned his rifle against the car.

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

“Ray—” Jack reached for him, too, but Ray shrugged him off.

“I’m not going to bitch out over a little pain. Are you?”

Jack recoiled, and moments later, Michael watched intently as a pale blue expanded from his hands. The blue got bigger, encompassed both arms up to the elbow when the bubbles popped. Michael studied Jack, rather than Ray, as he caught the exact moment the line snapped. Jack stumbled back into the car leaning sideways and into Geoff for a moment until he collected himself. His hands shook when he tried to right himself.

“ _Shit_ , that hurts.”

Ray made a noise of agreement, and Michael’s eyes flicked back to him just in time to see him uncurl himself from a similar posture Michael had been in just a moment before. Michael couldn’t help the knowing smirk. They may have done it to themselves, but it was a small taste of what would come if they thought they would be able to pull a fast one on Gavin.

“How did you learn to do that?” Geoff asked, one hand supporting Jack.

Gavin swallowed and offered a dismissive shrug. “Just did it one day.”

There was movement out of the corner of his eye, and Michael caught Ryan turning to face Gavin. Gavin didn’t look at him, just stared at the ground. With narrowed eyes, Michael wondered why that, out of everything, evoked a shift in position from their comrade.

“That’s actually really useful, even if it’s no fun to go through.” Jack said, as he watched Ray, who shifted back a little, toward his gun leaning against the side of the car. “Ray used distance in the past, to terminate a link.”

“Distance?” Michael asked. That was weird.

“You probably haven’t strayed too far from each other, but the range only goes so far with a link. Distance is exactly why our plan in the hangar worked.” Jack explained and ignored the sharp look Ray gave him. “We know Ray’s range, and that it’s farther than most Source’s. Thanks to Geoff’s visions, we knew you’d leave Gavin outside. From there, it was easy to cut off your link to him.”

“Alright, alright!” Geoff waved a hand impatiently, seemingly done talking about how they’d outsmarted their new teammates. “So you can cut a line and it hurts like hell. Let’s move on to the new powers, dickheads! Michael, Ryan, do one of you want to go first, or shall we?”

Michael grimaced again, and he could see Ray mirror the expression. Gavin touched him near the elbow, a soft, reassuring gesture as he turned to Geoff.

“You can go first. I’ll link with you first, and then Ray can link with Ryan.” Gavin recommended, and huddled a little closer to Michael for comfort. Michael stood firm, but he leaned back slightly as reassurance. “Then Jack, then Michael.”

It would be fine. Gavin could snap the line if the bastards tried to take too much, and he was ready to grab the gun nestled between his belt and the small of his back the second anything went tits up. He knew for a fact Ryan had rigged the car to explode if it came to that. It would take a moment for Gavin to recover, but Michael was pretty sure he could crush Jack’s shield with his gravity if he had to.

Geoff took a pace forward, back straight. “Okay then, let’s do this. Let me know if I’m taking too much, I’d rather not have to deal with having my line snapped. Okay buddy?”

Gavin nodded, smirking a little.

He had to keep a sharp eye trained on Geoff, despite how badly he wanted to watch Gavin instead, just in case the idiot didn’t realize how quickly Ramsey could draw from him and bleed him dry. Gavin knew his limits better than he did, however, and so reluctantly, he watched Geoff.

“Alright,” Gavin said, leaning just a little bit more into Michael and nothing happened for a solid minute.

“Geoff?” Jack asked, breaking the anxious silence.

“Shut up, I’m trying to see what it is.” Geoff answered Jack immediately. “You still good, Gavin?”

“Yeah. You can feel it, right?” Gavin asked, voice tight, and Michael was tempted to break his concentration just to be sure Gavin’s face wasn’t white. He couldn’t feel if his skin was cold either because of both of their jackets.

“Yeah.” Geoff’s brows furrowed. “This isn’t like the visions. It’s not immediate.”

Another minute dragged by and Gavin sighed. “Quit faffing about and get on with it!”

“It’s not that easy, alright?” Geoff snapped, a bit of color tinging his cheeks. He waved a hand, irritable, and said, “There’s not exactly a _handbook_ for this _shit_!”

What the fuck? Geoff’s eyes went wide and with one hand, pointed up and behind them.

Michael kept his eyes trained on Geoff, though, in case the man thought he could pull a fast one. Gavin, however, turned right the fuck around and let out an awed giggle of sorts. It was more like some sort of strangled bird noise he often made when something surprised him.

Reluctant, Michael turned as well and saw the massive dark cloud, swirling not too far off from them. Turning back, he gave Geoff a confused look, but the man’s shocked expression turned into one of fascination and a smile broke out, then an awed gasp from him as well. Whipping back around, he saw the cloud dissipating and from the middle a _fucking rainbow_ connected the last wisps of cloud before that, too, disappeared.

“Geoff, did you just…?” Jack asked slowly, trailing off just as the cloud came back, dark and angry, swirling in the air. And then it vanished again, and Gavin let out a slow breath, concentrating on the faster draw of power from Geoff.

“Yeah,” Geoff giggled, “I totally just did that.”

“So you can control the weather?”

“Yeah,” Geoff answered, almost in a dreamlike state, “and that’s way better than seeing the future.”

“Okay, fine, drop the line.” Michael ordered, a snarl threatening to bleed into the demand. He reigned it back, fists clenching at his sides, instead.

Geoff snapped out of his haze and his face fell back to something neutral, satiated. Michael took a quick glance at Ryan, who stood still, as he had this entire time. Michael wasn’t sure he’d even turned around to see the cloud show. Gavin exhaled slowly, and Michael knew the line had been dropped. Good, at least they were cooperating.

“You alright, Gav?” He asked quietly through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, got plenty left.” Gavin answered even quieter, and Michael knew the hidden meaning behind the words. Plenty left to source Jack and then some for an attack, if necessary.

“Alright, I guess that means you’re next.” Geoff jutted his chin toward Ryan, and waved a hand.

Ryan was still unpredictable, no matter what he had said he would agree to. If Ray tried snapping the line, or if Ryan was an asshole and tried to drain Ray just because he fucking could, the fight they’d avoided so far wouldn’t be an easy one. .

Ryan just turned his head to Ray and didn’t say a thing. Ray’s hands twitched toward the gun, but he stayed rooted to his spot and just glared at Ryan instead. And then Ryan disappeared and Michael instantly drew his gun. The act was met with three guns also pointed back at him. Michael hissed with an inhale, unsure if he should pull the trigger, eyes wild and searching.

“Ryan?” He asked, concerned. He didn’t know what had happened, but he needed to know if Ryan was safe. 

“Yeah?” Ryan was back, exactly as he had been, no gun in hand, looking lost.

“What the _fuck_?!” Michael snarled at him, instead, lowering his gun.

“What happened?” Gavin sounded small, fearful, and Michael didn’t blame him after the almost shootout. Everything they just had gone through—almost down the shitter. “Ryan, where did you go?”

“Nowhere.” Ryan answered, sounding confused. “Why?”

“You just bloody _disappeared_ is why, you mong!” Gavin shook his head in disbelief and Michael found himself mirroring the action.

“I almost fucking started shooting! What the _fuck_?”

“Invisibility?” Geoff guessed, lowering his weapon with still ramrod shoulders. “You fucking vanished, dude.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jack hissed, holstering his own, “let’s all fucking calm down.”

Ray did not lower his gun. He kept it up and ready, and while Michael should have been upset, he was too busy trying to get his heart to start again. Jack motioned for Ray to lower the gun, but it was ignored. Ryan just stood where he was, eyes trained on the other Source. 

“You could have snapped the line.” Ryan said, as if it he’d been expecting it to happen.

“You could have taken more.” Ray came back with, and Michael knew something had happened in that minute that he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to.

Ryan shrugged, and it seemed to end the conversation. Ray finally lowered his gun and moved his accusing glare over to Michael. Michael tried not to be offended and focused instead on Gavin. He was paler, but he wasn’t shivering, and he was steady on his feet. Ramsey must have been light on the draw—good, considering Gavin still had to link with Jack.

“Your turn,” Gavin prompted eagerly to Jack. Michael didn’t understand how someone so careful about linking with people was this enthusiastic to see what new powers were to come out of this.

“You ready?” Jack asked, cautious, and Michael gave himself a moment to feel relieved. He seemed the most concerned with the safety and health of the Sources. If that was the case, then maybe he could trust at least one of them.

“Yeah, let’s see what you’ve got!”

Just like before, Michael forced himself to watch carefully for any change in expression, any sign of anything malicious or haughty. Instead, Michael saw confusion. Jack was looking around, at Geoff first, eyes wide and shocked, then over to Gavin. His expression changed as he moved quickly to each of them, back and forth several times before he shouted in pain, and Michael moved to reach for his gun again.

Gavin must have snapped the line—

“He didn’t!” Jack said, quick and out of breath, though pain still exuded from him. “Gavin—”

Michael whipped around to Gavin, looking a bit distressed, but not pained, like he expected. Brows furrowed and eyes wide, Gavin just looked confused.

What the fuck was going on? Should he shoot?

“Michael, don’t!” Jack cried, suddenly, with an arm outstretched to Michael. “Ray, stop yelling—Gavin, drop the line!”

And just like that, Gavin was breathing hard, but remained upright. Jack immediately brought both hands up to his head. One fisted in his red hair, the other wrapped around his forehead.

“What happened?” Geoff demanded, tone sharp and worried.

“I could hear you,” Jack answered, and the wobble in his voice made Michael look back at him. Geoff was standing in front of him, hands on his shoulders, head ducked low, probably to look Jack in the eye. Ray was closer to the two of them than he had been, but his gun was pointed down. “I could hear all of you at once. Fuck, I think… I think maybe I heard your thoughts? None of you said anything, right? Your lips weren’t moving.”

“You read our minds?” Gavin sounded _horrified,_ and Michael suddenly realized why. If he had been thinking about betraying them, thinking about the plan, or even Ryan’s back up plan to this whole thing, they were fucked.

“Yes?” Jack sounded unsure, not at all accusatory, just confused, exhausted. “I couldn’t—you were all thinking at once, I couldn’t control it. It fucking hurt. Way too loud.”

Thank fucking god. Jack was one never to link with then. They needed to find an excuse for it just in case the others latched on to how powerful that would fucking be. Ryan must have had the same thoughts, because he turned to Michael and nodded.

“You’re up.”

Good, get the conversation away from the telepathy and onto him and the next power. Shit, that was bad. Why the fuck did it have to be telepathy of all things? Gavin, you _fucked us_. He thought furiously, pinching the back of Gavin’s arm to convey the message without saying it. Gavin squawked in response and reached out retaliate. Michael avoided the pinching fingers, and when he looked back at Ray, he could see the suspicion, the doubt.

Michael didn’t blame him. Just looking at the state of Gavin, exhausted, shaky, pale... Ray was probably going to be the same in a couple of minutes. Michael would try to at least have some fucking decency and restrain himself. Months of careful draws had honed his skills, but he didn’t know Ray’s limits, didn’t know his tells for taking too much. They needed to instill more trust, though, to keep their minds off of the telepathy.

Michael needed to make a big deal out of whatever the fuck he got from Ray. Whether it was the ability to turn something red or eat without feeling full, he was going to put on a fucking show.

“Michael, boi,” Gavin called softly, and Michael briefly turned back to him, concerned. “good luck.”

“Thanks, Gav,” he answered dismissively. He hoped he got something useful too.

Geoff was still fussing over Jack, asking questions Michael hadn’t been listening to. Ray was staring him down, and Michael did the same, ready for whenever that warmth hit his hands. And as it did and Michael felt the power flow for a minute, focused on the difference. Gavin’s power was heat, warmth that crept in and made his hands sweat after a while. Ray’s wasn’t much different, but it was faster, quick to invade his body, ready for use.

With furrowed brows, Michael pulled, just a nudge. Nothing immediately happened, but it was the same when he’d linked with Gavin the first time. Probably needed a catalyst, then. With a small wave of his hand, he concentrated on the leaves he’d previously reversed gravity for.

The explosion was small, a bright flash and a bang, but the force of it threw Michael back to skid along pavement.

Michael was flat on his back before he even knew what the fuck happened. The ringing in his ears drowned out most of the screaming, and once he blinked back the spots in his eyes he could see Gavin hovering over him. He couldn’t quite make out the words Gavin was saying, so he sat up quickly instead, ignoring the pain of his back.

Ray was still across from him, hunched low with his rifle trained on them. There was smoke trailing up between them, about five feet in. The leaves that were previously at his feet were nothing but char and tiny wisps of smoke.

“Michael!” And _ow_ , that was Gavin shouting in his ear and shaking him roughly.

“What?” he all but snapped back, not bothering to look at him.

“—just, put the gun down. Ray, you too! Jesus, come on guys!” That was Jack, agitated, yet placating.

Michael kept his attention on the leaves, the fact that there wasn’t anything left of them. He furiously tried to make sense of what just happened. Ringing in his ears, flat on his back, did someone just try to blow him up?

Holy shit, did he just try to blow himself up?

“Michael?” That was Ryan, voice low and threatening.

“Did I really just blow myself up?” Michael decided to answer, face twisting into almost disgust. “What the fuck?”

“Looks like it, unless you want to admit to trying to blow _me_ up.” That asshole Ray was looking smug, and a bit amused, if Michael was reading him right. “Then I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

“At least it’d be less lame. _Fuck_.” And the pain was setting in again, all up his back and the back of his head, where he must have knocked it. With a miserable groan, he brushed off Gavin’s hands and pulled himself back up.

He could see Ryan lower his arm, gun in hand, and slowly Ramsey’s crew did the same. It took a minute for the tense atmosphere to dissipate into something more neutral, but eventually Ray did get up from his crouched position and Michael could tell whatever he’d done had taken a lot of energy. He supposed they were lucky that he blew himself up and dropped the line; if it took that much energy then who knows how much he might’ve taken from Ray without realizing it.

One thing was for sure, Ray looked better than Gavin did at the moment. While Gavin was pale and wobbly, Ray was breathing heavy, a little sweaty, but steady on his feet. Jack had come closer to Ray, hovering, but not nervously. It was protective, calm.

“Are you alright, Michael?” Gavin whispered to him, although it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Yeah,” he rolled his shoulder’s back, wincing as it pulled at his injured back, “s’not like I just narrowly avoided death or anything.”

“Okay,” Ramsey started slowly, “so we’ve cleared that up. No one’s dead, we’ve fulfilled our end of the deal, let’s just get the fuck inside and discuss pay already.”

Michael almost sighed in relief. As much as an adventure it was to find out he could blow shit up—and hold on, no, the more he thought about it, his hairs stood more on end.

He could blow things up. Just concentrate on something and _bam_ , explosion. That was quite the fucking power. And Ryan, he could go _invisible_. Speed and gravity were powerful, sure, and Michael knew his powers in and out now, after months of honing, but if this alliance worked out and Ray was willing to actually link with them...

Gavin may have been more right than Michael originally thought. If the six of them could work to together, they could take out the Corpirate and possibly anyone else. They just needed to actually trust each other, and getting Ryan to see that was probably going to be the biggest hurdle. After all, Geoff Ramsey had seen the future, and that future was the six of them kicking ass. Geoff was already on board, Jack seemed to be in the same mindset.

As for Ray, all it would take was a similar point of view. Michael understood needing to protect what was his, and Ryan was a threat to everyone unless they could rein him in. It would probably take all five of them, and even then it would be difficult to convince him to act like a real fucking human being who slept in a bed every night and didn’t slum it up in a warehouse or a crack house. But if Michael could convince Ray, could prove he wasn’t there to fuck them over unless they fucked him over first, they might actually have a shot at convincing Ryan that he needed them too.

Because fuck if he let Gavin negotiate with the mad man again.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So sorry about the wait, between weddings and moving its been really crazy on our end. We aren't abandoning this, we just were forced to take a break for a bit. We are hoping to get back onto schedule and continue on like usual! Thanks for all the support so far!

Geoff let himself fall back into the silky soft sheets and plush bed with a heavy sigh as Jack bustled about in the room, picking up laundry and moving decor around.

Geoff sighed, and murmured to Jack, “Calm down, it’s all going to be fine.”

“Before or after someone gets killed?”

With a roll of his eyes, Geoff muttered a bitter, “I thought you were on my side. We talked about this.”

“We did, but that was before Haywood dragged my ass over every inch of the property to discuss security. He’s looking for weak spots!”

“You’d do the same thing.” Geoff argued, and ignored the dirty sock tossed at him. “C’mon Jack, they’re nervous.”

“Fucking— _I’m_ nervous!” Jack hissed back, stalking over to the bed to snatch up the sock. “Having them this close, knowing what could happen at any time… I spent so much time trying to calm Ray down, now I see exactly what he was talking about.”

“Hey, _I’m_ the one who knows the literal _fucking_ future.” It took some effort to prop himself up on his elbows and wait for Jack to meet his eyes. “It’s going to be sketchy for a while, we knew that, but it’s all going to be okay. They aren’t going to stab us in the back, they aren’t going to hurt us. And now we need to show them that we aren’t a threat to them.”

Jack let out a shaky exhale and fidgeted with the sock in his hand. “I know, I know.”

“C’mere,” Geoff beckoned, holding out a hand for Jack, who reluctantly took it. He pulled his long time friend down to flop against him, and wrapped his free arm up over Jack’s back, rubbing small circles into it through his shirt. Jack managed to somehow wrap an arm around Geoff’s middle, squeezing in response. “I’ve got us. I’ve got all of us, so just trust me.”

Jack didn’t respond and they lay there for a good while, just breathing. Eventually Geoff felt the tension leave Jack’s body, but he kept his hand moving in small circles, a constant form of comfort, even if Jack had relaxed. He loved this man, painfully so. He couldn’t count how many times their roles had been reversed, and he wished he could be like Jack—a constant steady rock, very rarely moved by anxiety or anger. He was bright, fun loving, and hardworking. How in the world did Geoff get so lucky to have someone like this in his life?

The love for a best friend had blended so easily with romantic, of course it had. How easy it had been to transition, to scare himself with visions and fear exactly what the outcome of it all would be, when it could be so _good_. A small smile wormed its way onto his face.

“I’m so fucking lucky I’ve got you.”

Jack’s head popped up, a bit of confusion showing in the small furrowing of his brows. “I’m glad you’ve finally realized.”

He smirked, and giggled. “Shut up you dick, I’m being romantic!” Geoff lightly tapped Jack’s back where his hand lay.

“This is what you think romance is?” Jack asked with a laugh.

Geoff shrugged, his smile growing. “You’ve known me long enough to know better. I was just thinking how scared I was to tell you about us.”

Jack sighed, rolling off of Geoff to kick off his shoes and shrug off his pants. “I’m still not too sure about all of that, either. It’s a little hard to focus on just us when we’ve got Ray to worry about, not to mention the others. How the fuck are we all supposed to get together anyways?”

Geoff shrugged. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

He fully expected the pillow smacking his face, and he laughed through the fabric. When he pulled the pillow away, Jack was off of the bed and rummaging through drawers and threw two pairs of pajama pants onto the bed. Geoff thought back through the day they’d had, and laughed, and told Jack about it.

“Michael’s cute, you know.” Geoff kicked off his own shoes with a soft smile, letting them fall at the foot of the bed before toeing off his socks. He ignored Jack’s sour expression when he added; “He was a fucking kid in a candy store when I showed him the armory.”

“Shut up. You did _not_.” Jack’s face turned stony.

“No, I really did,” Geoff laughed, pleased. “His face lit up and everything—”

“You fucking _idiot_!” Jack yelled, and he made for the door so fast Geoff almost didn’t have time to scramble over to him and pull hard at his wrist to stop him.

“Woah, wait, Jack—”

“Shut up!” Jack pulled hard back and Geoff dug his heels in and pulled back with all of his weight. “Let go, Geoff!”

“Calm down! It’s fine, he doesn’t know the passcode, I was just showing him around!”

“You gave them access to every single weapon we have. Fuck, _Ray_ _—_ ”

“Just shut up and listen to me!” Geoff roared back, unconcerned about anyone else in the house hearing the outburst. The walls were thick, but no wall could contain shouting like theirs. Jack obeyed, no longer struggling to get to the door, looking hurt. “He doesn’t know the code, I just showed him what was inside. The best way to get them to trust us is to be transparent with them Jack.”

“Fuck you. You’re going to get us all killed.” Jack hissed back and Geoff tightened his grip slightly.  “Let go of me.”

“It’s one or the other, Jack! You either trust me or you don’t!” Geoff just about snarled back. “For years we’ve had each other’s backs. _Years_ we’ve trusted each other to make the right call. Are you seriously turning your back on me now?”

“Fuck you. I’m not playing your game, Geoff, this is the fucking _Vagabond_ we have in our house right now!”

“Pick one, Jack.” Geoff let go of his arm, stood with a dark expression and hands balled into fists. He closed his eyes, and with a pinched expression delivered the final blow.  “I need to know if I’m the only one fighting for a future for all of us.”

It was low, but there was truth to it. If Jack turned against him and the future he saw, there wouldn’t be a future for them. The trust between all of them would never be established and they would all destroy each other before the Corpirate could do it for them.

A sick feeling sat at the bottom of his stomach when Jack just stood there, eyes narrowed behind his glasses for too long. A long second passed, then two, and finally Jack spoke, voice shaking and low.

“I’ve spent a long time defending your decisions to Ray. I’ve convinced myself that you know what you’re doing Geoffrey, that you’ve got it all under control. If we end up dead because of my love and loyalty to you, there won’t be a single place in the afterlife for you to hide from me. And,” he added, “don’t ever question my loyalty again, Geoffrey. You need to learn to trust _me_ more though, it seems.”

Relief flooded in—too soon, because Jack turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Geoff knew it was so he could cool down, meant it was far from the end of the discussion. There would probably be many more to come, and the stress of realizing that Jack was right gnawed at his insides.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have gotten carried away. He endangered them all—granted, he knew everything would be fine. He _knew_ it because his visions had never been wrong before, had always played out exactly how they were meant to—

Jack stormed back in, red faced He snatched a pair of pajama pants from the bed and pulled them on furiously, and Geoff’s eyes widened in realization. And he couldn’t help it, he laughed. Jack’s face was flushed red with emotion, and he looked like he might take said emotion out on Geoff for being so pleased.

“Who did—” Geoff could hardly get the words out around the giggles, “who did you run into? Please tell me it was the Vagabond. Oh god, my sides!”

“Gavin.” Jack bit out, and pulled open the covers to hide underneath them. “I think he was more embarrassed than I was.”

Geoff couldn’t stop. His laughter was loud and obnoxious, and he could tell Jack was still pissed off, but too embarrassed about the situation to actually go out of the room and face anyone else. Finally, his cackling petered off and Geoff joined Jack in bed, rolling close so he could enclose Jack in a sort of awkward hug from behind.

“I’m sorry,” Geoff whispered, placing a small kiss on the back of Jack’s head, “you were right, I shouldn’t have shown Michael the armory.”

“Stop doing things that make me doubt you.” Jack’s response was heavy, far more emotional than Geoff’s apology, and the lightheartedness of Jack’s embarrassing moment faded. “I know you think you know what’s right, that because you’ve seen what’s coming you can do anything, but you can’t. One of these days you’re going to see _wrong_ , Geoff. You’re going to see wrong and someone is going to get hurt. I can’t—I can’t just go with the flow like you. I have to be prepared for the worst!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Geoff squeezed tighter and placed another kiss, “and I mean it. I’m so fucking lucky I’ve got you, Jack. You’ve been the best thing to happen to me, and I can’t do it without you.”

“Then start acting like it and include us in decisions. We’re going to fall apart if you keep doing this shit.” Jack rolled over to face him and Geoff took his arm back and made a bit more room in between them. “That’s why Ray’s so upset, we didn’t even talk to him about joining forces, we just thrust it on him and told him to suck it up.” Geoff took a breath to process that, and closed his eyes in guilt.

“Fuck.”

“I know.” Jack sighed, and Geoff felt the warmth of his breath down his chin and neck. “If we don’t get our shit together we’re going to lose him. Hell, we haven’t even really started being together!”

“ _Fuck_ , Jack.” Geoff groaned and rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling fan. “Fuck.”

“We both know you didn’t mean it, I’ve talked with Ray. He’s going to follow us to the end, but we can’t do it again. I mean it, we need to be working as a team more. How the hell are we supposed to add three people we don’t trust into the mix if we can’t even work together ourselves?”

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

Jack hummed in agreement and also rolled onto his back. Regret hit full force and Geoff felt like crying. No wonder Ray hadn’t been speaking to him. Fuck.

“Where is he?”

“On the roof with Haywood.”

Geoff sat up, alarm coursing through him. “What?”

“He’s been watching Haywood all day, had his sniper rifle out the entire time I was showing Haywood the premises. I’m not sure what to expect, but they’ve been up there for a while.”

Huh. That was curious. “He say anything to you about the linking today?”

“Haven’t had a chance to really speak to him, he’s been too on edge with the three of them here. I can’t blame him, I’ve barely had a moment to breathe.”

“Something weird is going on between those two.” Geoff flopped back down, squirming a bit to get the covers out from underneath him and over his body to share in Jack’s warmth. “I can’t place it. What about Gavin and Michael?”

“Gavin was out wandering the halls and I have no idea where Michael is.”

That was expected. “Those two are fucking, you know.”

“It’s only kind of glaringly obvious.” Jack answered with a roll of his eyes.

Geoff rolled his eyes back, childishly. “I had quite the chat with Michael. I don’t think they trust Haywood as much as they act like they do. It won’t take much to convince them that this should be a permanent thing.”

“What did your visions say, oh Mighty Seer?”

“Not a damn thing. Can’t wait for Haywood to ditch the mask, though. He’s one handsome son of a bitch.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Why? We’re all fucking anyways.” Geoff shrugged and a lecherous grin stretched across his face. “He’s proportionate, by the way.”

“Okay, go the fuck to sleep. If I die tonight, the last thing I want to be thinking about is the Vagabond’s dick.”

Geoff laughed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe he could get a shot off, Ray thought, trying hard to mask the fact that he was clearly side-eyeing the Vagabond from his side of the roof. Fuck Jack for showing him the roof. It was bad enough having his home invaded by the three bitches, now his precious rooftop haven was being invaded too.

There was a lot Ray wanted to say, despite being scared shitless. He was a lot of things, at the moment. The mask was pissing him off. The fact that Ryan Haywood was just standing on his roof was irritating him. The silence, causing massive amounts of tension, was the best thing about the dickhead invading his space. At least he knew to shut up. He just wanted to look out into the city through his scope and relax, but here this asshole was, just standing on the roof for no fucking reason.

The fucker hadn’t even looked his way when Ray had his rifle trained on him the entire time Jack was showing him the fence, the gate, and the security features on the outside of the house. But the second Jack was done, the asshole made his way up Ray’s ladder and parked himself on the opposite end of the roof, arms crossed, looking at the city.

He was angry and anxious and every single story he had ever heard about The Vagabond was playing over and over in his head. The link—which was bullshit, by the way, because a lot had fucking happened in the twenty-six seconds they were linked—was a constant loop of confusion and irritation at the back of his mind.

Ray honestly just wanted this motherfucker to get the hell off of his roof. He wanted to be alone and getting off of the roof to retreat back to his room wasn’t much of an option. That idiot Gavin was inside, probably getting into shit and that was only going to be more annoying than this asshole standing silently on the roof.

“Brownman, right?”

Ray snapped to attention, ramrod straight with the blankest expression he could possibly manage on his face.

“I thought I recognized you.”

“I don’t go by that name anymore.” He said it was as much confidence as he could, despite the lie. Jack and Geoff didn’t know, but he still took jobs every now again to get away and remind himself that he wasn’t just a Source.

“You did good work.” Was that a fucking compliment from the Vagabond?

“I like to keep things clean,” Ray decided to answer, a bit of venom sneaking in because this asshole needed a hint that he wasn’t wanted on Ray’s fucking roof, “I’m not one to make a mess.”

The Vagabond shrugged, and seemed relaxed. Asshole. “I like to make a statement.”

Ray let out a soft snort, half hoping the Vagabond didn’t hear it. The silence came back and neither of them moved. It was a chilly night, and the cold was only amplified by the earlier link in the day. Ray never could get warm after a link. The curse of a Source, he supposed. He didn’t shiver, though, just zipped up his purple hoodie and threw up his hood.

“You didn’t snap the line.” Ryan mentioned casually.

Oh, so they were having this conversation. “Yeah, but like I said before. You didn’t take as much as you could’ve.”

“We’ve established that, but I was testing you, you’re smart enough to know that.” It was a nonchalant statement, as if Ryan Haywood didn’t give a single fuck that he had endangered the agreement to work together by being an asshole during the link. “I took more than I should have.”

Ray offered a half shrug, playing as equally not bothered despite the anger seeping in. “I gave you room to play, figured I’d see how big of balls you’ve actually got. Turns out you’ve been overcompensating.”

There was no need for the insult, but Ray rationalized that he was just testing temperament. It wasn’t a bad idea to see just how sensitive the Mad Mercenary was. Turns out, he didn’t give a single fuck. Ryan tilted his head, and changed the subject, seeming to sense Ray was really not in the mood.

“This isn’t a bad set-up. You’ve certainly put a lot into security.”

Ray turned slightly, full on staring now and doing little to hide it. “You don’t seem that confident in the security if you’re camping out up here.”

“Neither do you.”

“This is my spot,” Ray defended, and after a minute added, “a place for me to get away from everyone.”

The fucking _asshole_ didn’t say a fucking thing, just continued to stare out into the city. At least that was what it looked like, not that Ray could really see where his line of sight was due to that fucking mask. The Vagabond just remained silent and unmoving, and while Ray was tempted to retreat back to his room just to get away from the tension for a bit, he wasn’t about to back down. The Vagabond was an intruder upon their home and upon Ray’s space, and he wasn’t about to just hand it over without a fight.

Hunkering down, Ray settled on doing his own thing in the quiet of the chilly night and ignored the way his body was aching for warmth. Like a statue, The Vagabond didn’t move an inch and didn’t say anything more. They sat in stony silence for over two hours.

Then, finally, whether it was meant to be cheeky or not, Ryan Haywood offered a curt, “I like this place.” and then disappeared down the ladder.

 _Fuck_.

Out of spite, Ray stayed up on the roof the entire night, only nodding off once or twice. When morning light made his eyes water from the lack of sleep, Ray descended the ladder and wandered into the kitchen. Expecting to see the creepy mask of the Vagabond round the corner at any moment, Ray kept his back to the fridge at the kitchen bar and hazily munched on some dry cereal.

To his surprise, it was Michael who came stumbling in looking equally as hazy. A brief nod of acknowledgement was all that greeting Ray received before Michael grabbed the box of cereal— _rude_ —and poured himself a bowl. Before Michael could get behind him to get to the fridge, Ray turned around and pulled out the milk, sliding it down the bar. Michael nodded again and muttered a thanks when Ray slid a spoon down shortly after. Michael returned the favor by sliding the cereal box back.

It was an oddly relaxed exchange, and while Ray half blamed it on the fact that he was still freezing and exhausted, he briefly realized that while Haywood and Gavin were the absolute worst, Michael wasn’t actually so bad. He was pretty chill overall, something Ray could appreciate so early in the morning. He wasn’t as rude as the other two, respecting space and observing carefully. Before the link, Ray had gotten the distinct impression that Michael was a sort of kindred spirit. He had probably been protecting Gavin long before they joined Haywood, and that protective nature hinted at a similar mindset.

Michael protected his own, Ray did the same. A mutual agreement that didn’t need words or threats. It was relieving, actually, compared to being constantly threatened by Haywood’s presence and annoyed by Gavin’s. At least one of them was relatively agreeable.

“What made you join Ramsey’s crew?” Michael asked, and Ray blinked, caught off guard. “Money?”

Ray shrugged. “Was a good idea at the time. What made you join the Vagabond?”

Michael grimaced and swallowed a mouthful of cereal. “Got my ass beat. We’ve been with him ever since.”

Fuck, that did not bode well. So they were forced into it. The very real possibility of a hostile takeover was quickly overriding the trust Ray had put into Jack’s judgement. The relaxed tone of breakfast was gone, an uncomfortable silence sweeping in.

“We were going to kill all of you,” Michael said, swinging the metal spoon loosely in his hand as he chewed on more of the sugary cereal. “Some asshole sold all of my guns to you and I wanted ‘em back. Turns out Geoff Ramsey and his crew wanted to team up instead. Which is funny, considering you guys sent a hit out for us last week. Speaking of, you guys must be hurting for people considering those fuckers went down in seconds.”

Ray snorted. “They were only to get your attention. Geoff has a bit of a crush.”

“Sorry, I’m taken.” Michael leaned a bit more heavily against the bar. “He’s a pain in the ass, but it’s impossible to get away now.”

So Geoff was right, then. “Was that smart, revealing a weakness?”

Michael snorted loudly. “A weakness? If it wasn’t obvious already that Gavin can hardly tie his own shoes, revealing the fact that we fuck isn’t going to change anything.”

Huh. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be, he’s your problem now too.” Michael grinned around the spoon as he shoved more cereal into his mouth.

Michael had a point, and Ray suppressed a groan. The rest of breakfast was relatively quiet, a few more questions and answers thrown back and forth between them, and by the time Ray was done eating, he found himself actually enjoying the conversation. Until wild hair and a whiny british voice called from upstairs.

“Michael?”

“What?” Michael called back, turning away from a now scowling Ray.

Of course Gavin would have to come in and ruin a decent conversation. The other Source looked slightly less of a wreck than Ray, probably because he actually got some fucking sleep and didn’t spend all night on guard while the fucking Vagabond stood in his space.

“Oh, mornin’” Gavin greeted, having come up to the kitchen bar.

Well, so much for hiding in the kitchen. Without another word, Ray shoved the milk back in the fridge and made his way up the stairs to retreat to his room. Once he was at the top of the stairs he heard Gavin say;

“What an unfriendly bloke.”

Ray really didn’t give a fuck. Gavin had no idea what the hell he was doing as a Source, and sure, he knew that snapping the line trick, but aside from that the guy had no sense. He was annoying, practically useless, and worst of all, Ray could tell Jack and Geoff were going to fawn over him.

The powers they got were useful, far more useful than his own. There was no way they were going to let that power pass by, and he’d be left alone again. He’d seen the look in Geoff’s eye, the spark of excitement at a power he was actually conscious enough to use. The thoughtful look Jack had as no doubt he was trying to figure out how reading minds could be used to their advantage. And there were so many ways _that_ could be used.

Fuck Gavin, Ray thought forcefully, and slammed his door shut.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin winced at the noise of the door, and looked at Michael guiltily.

“Did I do something?” He kept the worry out of his voice, instead focusing on making himself a bowl of cereal. Michael shrugged, and got up to put his bowl away, nearly bumping into Ryan as he came back into the kitchen.

“He’s a cool guy, I think he’s just annoyed. Look, I gotta shower, you coming with?” Michael asked, edging out the door past Ryan. He didn’t seem particularly worried that Gavin was never going to have another Source to talk to at this rate.

Gavin shook his head, holding his bowl up. “Nah, I’m gonna eat first. You go shower, I’ll join you later, boi.”

He munched on his sugary cereal quietly as Ryan fixed himself breakfast. He started when Ryan sat next to him, mask pulled up slightly above his mouth.

“Ryan, why is Ray being terrible to me?” Gavin couldn’t help it. He knew Ryan had been on the roof with Ray all night, he was so curious—

“Dunno, he seems alright to me, though. Did you do something?” Ryan shrugged.

“No!” Gavin thought. “No? I don’t think so. Ryan, I just don’t see what I could have done to make him so angry so quickly, Ryan.”

“Gav, what do you want me to do? Go up to him and tell him to play nice? That you’re one of the cool guys?” Ryan’s tone was sharp, unexpected. Gavin furrowed his brow, annoyed. He dropped the conversation, guessing Ryan had had less sleep than he had.

Still, it was annoying. Neither Michael nor Ryan seemed to notice the anger directed towards him, and a brief flicker of panic hit him as he wondered if he really did deserve it. Maybe he was too annoying at first? Pushing the worry away, he shoveled his cereal into the sink and dropped the bowl with a clink, earning him a silent, dark look from Ryan.

Gavin got ready quickly, nervous energy building as he dressed in the guest room he and Michael shared. Ryan’s was further down the hall, although secretly Gavin was relieved. It was nice that they could have a room designated for just the two of them again. Peeking out from atop the stairs and over the banister, he could see Michael with Ryan in the kitchen. They were close, and he couldn’t make out their voices, so it was probably serious, and honestly Gavin was a little done with serious.

Ray was serious, Gavin thought bitterly, and eyed the other Source’s room. The door was still closed and he couldn’t hear anything from outside, so maybe he was asleep. If Ray was angry at him, the best thing to do would be avoid him and work off his stress. A brilliant plan formed, and Michael wouldn’t be happy, but so be it. A little jealousy and attention wouldn’t hurt, after being shot down so quickly in the kitchen. What was it he had heard, ‘You’ve got to keep a man’s eyes from roaming’, or something stupid like that.

Tracking down Geoff and Jack was less difficult than he thought. They had retreated to outside, lounging in comfortable lawn furniture on the patio. Standing a few feet from the glass sliding door, he observed them for a moment. Jack was lying on a chaise, and Geoff was sat balanced precariously on his own chair. His eyes were glued to his phone, fingers swiping away at the screen.

With a bit of faux confidence, Gavin straightened up and pulled open the sliding glass door.

“Hey, Geoff?”

“Yeah, what’s up, buddy?” Geoff was preoccupied with some game on his phone, but looked up briefly when Gavin got his attention.

“Do you and Jack want to practice linking with me?”

Jack looked up, wide eyed. “You want to link?

“I just need something to do or I’ll go crazy.” He shrugged.

“Are you recovered enough from yesterday? You didn’t look so good.”

Gavin’s heart warmed a touch, he appreciated the care Jack took with him as a Source. “Nah, I’m fine! Besides, I’m really curious about what we can do. Reading minds an’ all. And rainbows or whatever.”

“Hey! I can make clouds too!” Geoff protested light heartedly. Then his face went all serious and for a second Gavin feared he really did piss him off. “Your buddies cool with this?”

Gavin squeaked, “They aren’t my _mum_ , Geoffrey!”

“If we’re working as team we should be on the same page, _Gavvers_.” Geoff said, imitating Gavin in the singularly worst British accent Gavin had ever heard.

“I’m not going to ask for permission,” Gavin didn’t _snap_ , per se, but the implication that he couldn’t even link with anyone without having to ask his Inheritors really ticked him off. “They trust me, and if it goes bad, I cut the line.”

The silence as a response wasn’t great, and briefly Gavin wondered if it was even a good idea to ask. But he wouldn’t be stuck doing nothing all day because Michael and Ryan were playing detective or whatever. He didn’t have a computer and to risk getting caught hacking so early on would be detrimental to making this whole thing work.

“Look,” Geoff started, and put his phone into his back pocket, “I didn’t mean to put it like that. I just don’t want Haywood and Michael looking to slit our throats thinking that we forced you into something. We need to make this work.”

“It will!” Gavin reassured, “I know my limits better than anyone, and as long you follow the rules, there won’t be a problem. Besides, Michael and Ryan are grumpy, but they’ll listen to reason.”

Kinda. Michael, eventually at least. Ryan on the other hand…  

“If you’re sure, then hell yeah!” Geoff moved past his qualms quickly, seeming to be too excited to practice to worry too much.

“I’m sure! We need the practice anyways. Can’t properly Source the first couple of times, too exhausting to get anywhere fun.”

They took their time deciding who should practice first and how to be as safe as possible with Gavin’s limits, until they were all convinced none of them would be injured, and Jack was satisfied Gavin wouldn’t double cross them somehow.

It was easier to link with Jack than he expected. The response of, _Yeah, the first time with Ray was a lot more complicated_ echoing through his head was not. Gavin jumped, heart racing at the shock of the invasion into his thoughts. Quickly, he flicked his eyes to Geoff.

_“I can hear him thinking about his powers. He secretly wanted to go first.”_

With a frown, Gavin tried thinking a clear thought. Jack’s eyes widened a fraction, and a small smile grew from the concentrated grimace that was there before.

_“He can’t hear us. I can hear him, though.”_

The strain of the link was making itself known, nothing he couldn’t handle, but it was good to know the drain of energy was going to take its toll soon. Rather than think it, it was more background knowledge, a tally always kept in his head without really acknowledging it. Instead, more at the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t help but think;

_“You guys are actually good guys, aren’t you?”_

The chuckle, a deep rumble through his head, made his nose scrunch up at the odd sensation. He’d never heard a laugh without hearing it. It was strange and all encompassing, and honestly, he preferred to hear it outside of his head.

_“Sorry. Are you doing alright? Should we stop?”_

_“I want to try something. Can you add Geoff to conversation? Like a group message?”_

Jack’s facial features morphed, and the response in his head was, _“If I’m honest, I really don’t know how you can even hear me right now. It just kind of—_ _”_

 _“_ _—l_ _ike, I get that mind reading is cool, but if I turn into Storm from the X-men I am going to make it snow so goddamn much the city is gonna_ shit _itself. Merry fucking Christmas bitches! Today, tomorrow, all the fucking time because I can. And tornados. Holy shit. Tornados. I fucking forgot. Oooooh, this city is fucked. No. The next city is fucked. Mmm… maybe just a small town. Gotta learn to control it first and_ _—_ _”_

_“Geoff?”_

Geoff skyrocketed into the air, and the scream he let out was louder inside Gavin’s mind than out.

_“Fuck! Geoff, that was fucking loud!”_

_“Get out of my head, Jack!”_ came the immediate screech, and then Geoff turned to Gavin and gave a suspicious leer. _“Can you hear me too?”_

 _“Should I play dumb?”_ came out before Gavin realized that his every thought could be read- and flushed when Geoff grinned back.

_“Too late for that, you little shit!”_

_“Geoff, c’mon, really? Tornados?”_

_“Those were private thoughts, Jack!”_

_“I’m cold. Should’ve brought my jumper. Knew I’d get cold.”_ Those thoughts weren’t filtered, and suddenly the two snapped their attention to him and a torrent of thoughts came all at once.

_“Stop the link!”_

_“Ray gets cold when_ _—_ _”_

_“Can you turn it off?”_

_“-ut up! Shut up!”_

_“How do you turn it off?”_

_“Shut up! I can’t think!”_

_“Jack, turn it off!”_

All at once everything stopped and the loss of two voices in his head shouldn’t have been more jarring than the addition of them, but it sent him off balance and he fell onto his hands and knees in the grass. Instantly, Geoff was kneeling beside him. Hands patted down his shoulders, his face, and his shoulders again. When Gavin could properly put two thoughts together again, he stared past Geoff and at Jack, who was lying flat on his back with his hands tangled in his red hair.

“Are you okay?” He found himself asking, and Geoff whipped around. The hands retracted and Geoff was skidding in the grass next to Jack, hurriedly asking questions in a low voice.

“Fine, I’m fine. It was just too much. Is Gavin okay?”

“Yeah.” He answered for himself, and pulled himself back up onto his feet. Trudging forward, he looked down at Jack and realized there were tears streaming down his face. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Jack shook his head and wiped at his eyes with his forearm. “Sensory overload I think.”

“Hey, it’s fine. You did great.” At first Gavin wasn’t sure who Geoff was talking to, but one of Geoff’s tattooed hands were rubbing softly up and down Jack’s leg, from ankle to knee and back again.

Gavin shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. If he was honest, he hadn’t been paying too much attention to himself during the link, and that was entirely too dangerous. He could’ve easily spent everything he had just to see how far they could go with Jack’s powers. There were still a lot of unanswered questions he wanted to explore, too.

How many people could hear each other’s thoughts at once? Did Jack just have to concentrate to add them? Could people be removed after having been added to the conversation?What was the range? How deep the thoughts? What about the unconscious ones, like breathing and sensing danger? Was there a volume button on the damn thing? Gavin shook his head, trying to focus on Jack and the situation at hand.

It was a good thing they dropped the link. Jack might’ve been proper annoyed by all those questions. It was hard enough to hear his own thoughts, let alone try to sort out the others. Geoff slowly aided Jack into standing again, and Gavin felt a twinge of remorse. He hadn’t meant to overload Jack.

“Hey, maybe we should stop.” Jack suggested, and Gavin frowned.

“Why?”

“Because you’re starting to shiver. That’s a sign you’re running out of juice.” Geoff explained, almost cross, but Gavin could hear the worry in it. “We can link later. You shouldn’t push yourself.”

“I’m not.” Gavin told them flatly. “I get cold no matter what, it’s like I’ve got ice in my blood. I’m nowhere near my limit.”

“Listen, Gavin, you don’t have to try and impress us with—”

“I’m not.” He cut Jack off, “we agreed that I’d tell you when I’m done, and I’m telling you, I’ve got loads left. The shivering is just step one, yeah? Then it’s more shivering, the gammy feeling, and then the vom. I really don’t want to vom, so I’m telling you, I’m good to go. Promise.”

He could see Geoff wanted to shut him down, and even Jack looked skeptical, but after a moment of staring them down, Jack walked past him.

“I’m at least getting you a jacket.”

Geoff stood strong, arms folded across his chest. “You better not be lying.”

“Geoffrey,” Gavin admonished with a hand over his heart theatrically, “would I lie to you?”

“Do I play dumb?” Geoff’s voice went high—well, higher than usual, and it was obvious he was making fun of Gavin’s accent again. “What a bunch of horse shit.”

Gavin grinned, and when he heard the sliding glass door open, he saw Jack with a thick winter coat, long and puffy. It was the kind someone took to go skiing. It was placed gently around his shoulders and instantly he huddled into the warmth.

“Thanks, Jack.”

Honestly, this was nicer than anything he ever expected from Ramsey and his crew. Sure, Ray wasn’t the friendliest bloke—quite the little bitch, actually—but with time Gavin would win him over too. If he could tame Michael, who outright wanted nothing to do with him for the first two weeks they were together, and he could tame Ryan, he knew he would worm his way into Ray’s bitchy little heart.


	19. Chapter 19

Geoff was late. Every Tuesday, regardless of what was happening, Ray and Geoff sat at the kitchen table and linked. There were visions, there were headaches, and then Ray took a nap. But instead, he had a headache from sheer boredom. He kept trying to still his leg, but it refused to stop bouncing, and his were fingers tapping rapidly against his biceps. Geoff wasn’t just twenty minutes late, no, it’d been well over an hour—and by now, Ray was well ready to kill someone, specifically Geoff.

Or possibly Michael, who had now walked past him three times, each time with a more pinched look. This time, Michael just stood on the opposite side of the table and stared at Ray. Ray gave him a sour look.

“What?” Ray muttered, tempted to throw up his hood and hide in it for a while.

“You seen Gavin?” Michael’s tone was flat, and nearly just as sour. “Can’t find him.”

“No. You seen Geoff?”

“Nope.” They stayed in an agitated silence for a while, before Michael spoke up again. “Geoff ditched you.”

Not that Ray wanted to talk about it, but he answered with a curt; “Probably for Gavin.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, lips thinning, “probably.”

“I need to shoot something, you got a good throwing arm?” Whether he was doing it out of spite, or because Michael was the only person he wasn’t pissed off at in the house, Ray would never tell.

“Yeah, but we switch after fifty rounds.” Michael paused for a moment and then added, “You guys have a minigun, right? Ryan won’t let me touch his and I’ve been looking to try one out.”

Fuck it, why the hell not? “Yeah, I’ve got one you can borrow. Speaking of the Vagabond, where the fuck is he?”

“Yeah, I don’t fucking ask. The guy is a fucking creep, and he’s been dead set on skulking around, something about finding a weakness in the fence or whatever. Think he went to find Jack.”

Who was probably with Geoff and Gavin. “You don’t seem that worried about Gavin.”

“Just get the fucking guns, asshole.”

Ray stood with a smirk. No, maybe Michael wasn’t all that bad at all. And honestly, if Gavin wanted to steal away Geoff and Jack, then he could steal Michael for a while.

They set up on the roof, with their chosen targets out in the front yard. Michael didn’t end up throwing any, but instead they passed different guns back and forth, picking more challenging shots in the style of HORSE. Ray was winning, of course, when shouts from below had them peering over the edge.

“What?” Michael called, a bit of a sarcastic giggle to his voice.

“Cut that shit out! Frank’s going to call the fucking cops again!” Well, at least they found Jack, finally.

“Fuck Frank!” Ray called back, and leaning further over the edge, he could see Gavin, shivering in what looked to be Ray’s own winter coat. That motherfucker.

“Ray, I’m serious,” Jack barked, “we can’t keep paying them off!”

“Michael? Boi, are you up there?”

“I was wondering where the fuck you ran off to!” Michael leaned precariously over the edge of the roof and Ray grabbed the back of his shirt to pull him back. He’d had his fair share of scares over time. “Fucking, don’t do that, you piece of shit!”

“Was just a bit of practice!” Gavin called, and looking up at them, had a smile on his face.

“Of course it fucking was.” Michael muttered, and pulled back. “Looks like he pushed himself too hard, the fucking moron. I’m gonna go put him to bed.”

Ray was disappointed. They hadn’t even finished their game yet, and he’d enjoyed trouncing Michael. Before heading back down the ladder to the living room, Michael offered a smile.

“I’ll fucking beat you next time. And we’ll shoot out all of Frank’s windows if he calls the cops.”

Ray shrugged. “Yeah.”

Ray watched as down Michael went, able to faintly hear the conversation below. Gavin blabbed all about what progress had been made with Geoff and Jack and their powers and a sick feeling bubbled in his stomach. It grew when he heard the praises sung by Geoff and Jack in return. Bitter, Ray whirled around and took aim, but through his scope he could see the Vagabond’s creepy fucking mask staring back at him, hands examining the bullet holes in the paper targets they had set up.

For some reason that pissed him off too, and he flipped him off from the roof. While he couldn’t see any expression, Ray had a feeling the fucker was smiling back at him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin had to have known Ray didn’t like him. If he hadn’t picked up on the obvious hints from the get go, then he really was _that_ fucking stupid. And maybe he was, because despite getting to know Michael for the rest of the day after poor, precious Gavin had been put to bed, the other Source had asked to join in the shooting game.

The game they were now playing with silenced weapons—definitely not as fun, but Jack was literally going to kill them if the cops were called again.

“You can barely fucking shoot!”

“Nah,” Gavin waved off Michael’s skeptical protest, “I’ve had some practice. I could play!”

“We’re in the middle of the game.” Ray told him and grabbed the pistol back from Michael to take his shot.

“Just wait a bit then, and I can finally fucking beat someone.” Michael answered, and took a swig of beer. The bottle was empty, then, and Michael frowned. “We need more drinks. Be right back.”

Down the ladder went Michael and Ray scowled at the shot he’d botched. Fucking Gavin.

“Have you got a problem with me, Ray?”

Ray rolled his eyes. “What gave you that idea?”

Gavin made some sort of odd noise, something between a huff and squawk, but it was quiet. “I don’t really get it. I haven’t done anything to you.”

Ray didn’t bother with a response, just reloaded the gun and fiddled with it. Gavin made another one of those huffing noises, and snuggled deeper into _Ray’s_ jacket.

“Jack and Geoff are gettin’ on just fine with me.” Ray paused in his fiddling and did his best to listen carefully to the rest of what Gavin had to say. “We’re Sources, right, so shouldn’t we—”

“You know, you’re right. We’re both Sources.” Ray turned to face Gavin, still hunched in Ray’s jacket. His eyes were wide behind wind swept hair, lips thin and a serious expression on his face. At least he wasn’t smiling, acting like they were great pals and it was all just some misunderstanding. “So why don’t you stick to your Inheritors, and I’ll stick to mine.”

It was obvious Gavin was taken aback, especially when the first thing he came back with was, “Aren’t we working together?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ray rolled his eyes and tightened the silencer on the pistol. “Like how you guys are working with the Vagabond. You use him for protection, and in return he doesn’t kill you, right? And that’s what this is too. You’re using us as protection.”

“You’re the ones who wanted to team up.” There was accusation in the tone and Ray was tempted to lift the gun, to threaten him with it just to watch him cower like the first time they met.

“Geoff may have wanted this, but I see what’s going to happen. You don’t pull your weight in the little team you’ve got going now, and I don’t see any signs you’re going to be worth the trouble in the future.”

“You don’t know anything.” Gavin tried to defend, but Ray continued.

“I can see you charming them, worming your way in so that they can’t see what you actually are, but I can see just fine. Geoff and Jack aren’t dumb, though, and they’ll see through the bullshit soon enough.”

“I don’t get what you’re on about.” Gavin crossed his arms. “I haven’t done anything. It’s not my fault if they like me.”

Ray barked out laugh. “And there it is! You know what, I’ll fucking play your game if you really want to, but don’t expect me to pull any punches.”

Gavin’s face darkened and his fists clenched. He opened his mouth to say something but Michael’s voice came trailing up the ladder.

“You’re out of beer, but there was whiskey in one of the offices, so I took it.” Michael heaved himself up and must have seen the sour expressions because he knitted his brow and asked, “Did I fucking miss something?”

“Nope. Your move.” Ray glanced at Gavin, who glared back at him.

“Michael, I’m hungry.”

Ray recognized that for what it was. Clingy girls used it all the time, but Michael just set the whiskey down on the roof and grabbed the pistol from Ray, lining up his shot.

“So go get something to eat. I think Ryan’s in the kitchen.”

Ray fucking _grinned_ , and he could see how Gavin’s face fell into something Ray recognized from his own the last two days. That’s right, if Gavin wanted to take Jack and Geoff away, he’d have to give up his own precious Michael. And fuck it, Ray’d even snag Haywood if he had to. And when they all realized that Gavin was _just_ a Source, that he wasn’t going to ever be anything more, they’d see the value in Ray.

Because Gavin was going to either die or get someone else killed. He couldn’t fight and didn’t have any other skills to offer the group; he was going to drag them all down and Ray had fought too hard for some stupid asshole to come in and ruin everything.

So he watched Gavin turn on his heels and scamper down the ladder, defeated and surly. Good. The faster he caught on that Ray wasn’t going to put up with bullshit, the better. And when he turned back to Michael, who was grinning at a perfect shot, he realized that stealing Michael away was something he maybe actually _wanted_.

Shaking away the thoughts, he smiled back and raised the difficulty, taking another shot. This one was dead on, and Michael grumbled and took the pistol back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Ryan,” Gavin whined, and stretched out along the counter, “he’s awful.”

Ryan hummed, and pushed an apple into his stretched out hands. The apple was quickly pushed aside as Gavin pouted.

“What do you think of him?”

“I think he’s useful,” Ryan stated bluntly from behind the mask. “And I think it’s time you made yourself useful too.”

Gavin sighed. “Have you got the stuff?”

Ryan shrugged. “It’s not much. You’ve worked with less.”

With a groan, Gavin buried his face in his arms against the counter. “Where is it?”

“Upstairs in your room. You only have a few hours, Ramsey wants us to practice tonight.”

“Do you think Michael likes him?”

There was a long, drawn out silence, and then Ryan answered, “I think you’re acting like a thirteen year old girl.”

“Shut up.” Gavin grumbled, and left Ryan to whatever it was he was doing skulking about the kitchen. He wasn’t cooking, that much was obvious. He was just kind of… standing around. Maybe he didn’t know how to make himself fit in either. After all, he’d mostly just ordered Michael and him around until eventually they got tired of it and did their own thing.

On his way to the stairs he could hear Ray’s laughter up the ladder. The hatch had remained open, letting the sounds echo down into the living room. He’d talk to Michael later, when he wasn’t so worked up. But it was clear he didn’t see what was going on. Ray was definitely getting close just to piss Gavin off.

And Ryan was being completely unsympathetic about the whole thing. Couldn’t he see what was going on? Ray definitely hated him. How were they supposed to work together like this?

When he reached his room, Gavin grimaced at the old computer. Where the hell had Ryan gotten this hunk of junk? He remembered the last time he had asked Ryan for tech. A little cell phone was all he’d gotten.

Speaking of…

Walking right back downstairs, he approached Ryan and held his hand out. “I need your phone.”

“Why?”

“It’s tech stuff, just give it! I can work faster with two pieces of tech.”

Reluctantly, Ryan reached into his back pocket and handed over the phone. Smiling brightly, Gavin offered a quick, “thanks!” and hurried back up the stairs. That trick always worked on Ryan. The guy was built for efficiency and he didn’t have a lot of patience. Especially when it came to Gavin, who was a sneaky asshole.

Unlocking the phone was quick and easy, especially after last time, and Gavin pulled up the contacts. Thirteen Edgars. If Ryan could outsource, why couldn’t he?

What Gavin found was an absolute goldmine. Apparently each Edgar had a number assigned to them, and in the contact info was their location. They were all over the place, some in different countries. But they were all underground, hiding out in some room that Ryan paid for.

But the best part was that they _talked to each other_. It was far more difficult to break into the chat than to find their information, but eventually he managed to do it. Immediately he was greeted into the fold.

**Edgar 4: You must be Edgar 14. It’s been awhile since we’ve had a new one.**

**Edgar 7: fuck this he cant even afford to send us grocries so y is he setting up a new one?**

**Edgar 3: stfu its fine. welcome to the cult.**

Hesitantly, Gavin typed back.

**Edgar 14: yeah, i’m not really sure what’s going on.**

**Edgar 5: fucking get used to it. were like his fucking dogs. just get him what he wants to  know adn you’ll be fine.**

After that, the chat descended into shit-talk about Ryan. Honestly Gavin was fascinated; he had just expected thirteen meek blokes sitting in literal holes in the ground, not a collection of bitter people bullied into answering Ryan’s beck and call. How he’d managed to keep them subdued was a mystery, since he only paid them on occasion and apparently grocery deliveries were becoming scarce.

Ryan Haywood was one scary son of a bitch.

But as the chat went on, and he had to add in, he found himself bitching too. Ryan was bossy and scary when he was angry. His kills were too messy and it was hard to compromise with him. It felt natural to see himself as one of them, as a part of the Edgar System.

“What are you doing?”

Gavin just about jumped out of his skin and quickly clicked out of the chat. Whirling around, he saw Michael leaning against the door frame, burger in hand.

“Jesus, Michael!” Gavin complained, opening up a different tab. “I thought you were Geoff or Jack.”

“Again,” Michael took a bite of the burger and waved it around a bit, “What are you doing? Why are you so jumpy?”

“Ryan has me working on some things. Didn’t want them to know.” Gavin sighed and spun in the computer chair. “I thought you were playing with _Ray_.”

“Shut up, don’t be like that.” Michael rolled his eyes. “We’re supposed to be getting along, remember? It was your plan to begin with.”

“Yeah, but Michael, he’s being a right mong.”

“I like him. He’s easy to talk to.”

“Sure,” Gavin agreed with a grumble, “if it’s _you_. He won’t bloody speak to me.”

“Why, Gavin Free!” Michael drawled in an exaggerated southern accent, “don’t tell me you’re _jealous_!”

“What if I am, Michael?” Gavin tried. Maybe if he was honest, Michael would see it. And really, Ray wasn’t being the least bit fair.

“Dude,” Michael shook his head and took another bite. “he’ll eventually get over the fact that you’re the literal worst and it’ll be fine.” Michael chuckled, but when Gavin tried to say something, Michael cut him off with a sharp look. “Stop worrying and just focus on not fucking us over. I’m serious, Gavin. You’re the one who wanted this.”

Gavin frowned and spun back around the computer. That wasn’t at all what he wanted to hear.

“Gav, come on.” Michael had picked up on his mood. Too bad.

“I’ve got work to do.” Gavin told him flatly. First Ryan, now Michael. He was clearly on his own with this.

“Are you seriously mad right now?” When Gavin gave no response, Michael continued with a terse, “You need to get the fuck over it. I’m not just going to tell Ray to fuck off because you don’t like him.”

Gavin didn’t bother to respond and after a tense moment of silence, Michael turned and left. Clenching his teeth, Gavin narrowed his eyes at the computer and got to work.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey!”

Ryan paused in his daily walk around the fence line, lifting an eyebrow at the voice calling for his attention. He turned, curious to see what Ray could possibly want from him. He didn’t speak, just turned his head so Ray could tell he was listening, and waited for the sniper to say something more.

Ray had his pink rifle with him, over his shoulder. He stood with both hands in the pockets of the purple hoodie he wore day after day. Not that Ryan could say much, as he wore his signature leather jacket just as often. And his mask. And jeans.

Maybe he did need a new wardrobe. But admitting that would have Gavin ordering him clothes and the brit had the worst fashion sense he’d ever seen for a twenty-something.

“We need to practice.”

Well, that was unexpected. Ray had been avoiding him since day one, sometimes with a scathing glare. He couldn’t help but to encroach in his space as retaliation. It was highly unfair to be punished for something Ryan hadn’t even done yet, especially when he was actually putting in an effort to work with them before he brutally stabbed them in the back.

“No Ramsey?”

Ray just stared back. An order then, huh? Well, he couldn’t blame Ramsey for taking in obedient underlings, at least. And he’d only spoken to Jack a couple of times, but the guy was sincere in his dealings with threats. He had the bases covered and he had tabs on absolutely everything, from the little peons running around the streets to who was in charge of every contact they had. Ryan was a bit surprised the guy even divulged the fact that he knew all of that.

Still, it was curious Ray agreed without anyone there to back him up in case Ryan decided to be a dick about things. A bit of mischief creeping in, he pulled at Ray’s line. It was a soft tug, just to feel him out, but to his surprise, warmth crept through his fingertips, up his arms, and settled down into his chest. He was used to the heat of a link, but the heat felt different somehow. He hadn’t really noticed the last time they had linked.

Gavin’s link felt almost hot, burning through his veins as power surged. Ray’s, on the other hand, was almost a low heat. It wasn’t as intense, and felt a bit easier to control. He watched for any change in Ray’s face, but he wore the same expression as usual, flat and calculating. How boring.

“Can I?” Ryan asked. Maybe if he played nice he’d get something new out of it. He needed to gain Ray’s trust, anyhow.

“Go for it.”

He pulled harder at the line and out of the corner of his eye, saw his right hand disappear. Slowly, the rest of him dissolved into nothing. Ray’s eyes were no longer focused on him, flicking left and right in an effort to track him. He didn’t bother moving, more interested in what Ray would do if he couldn’t figure out where Ryan actually was.

Three minutes went by with no forms of communication. Ryan didn’t move and neither did Ray, though the Source was tense, body stiff and ready for action at any second. Briefly, Ryan thought about doing something cliche. Maybe doing that creepy breathing thing behind him. But really, doing nothing was more fun. Ray would either panic or he wouldn’t.

In the end, he didn’t have time to wait, because Gavin came walking towards them, hands fisted in his jacket pockets. He approached Ray and a devious idea began to form.

“Hey, Ray, have you seen Ryan?”

Ray didn’t turn to offer a greeting, just stared straight ahead and continued to watch. Although Ryan could see his expression change from just flat to annoyed. Ryan shifted and pulled a knife from his belt. He couldn’t see it, even though he could feel it in his hands. Adjusting his grip, he pulled back his arm and waited for Gavin to come just a little bit closer.

“Ray? Hey, did you hear— _shit_!”

The knife barely missed Gavin’s head, swooshing past his wind swept hair. It was a disappointment to see the knife soar through the air. He had hoped it would stay invisible in its journey. Ah, well, that just meant that he’d need to try again. Ray did turn to Gavin, then, and from Ryan’s position he couldn’t see the expression but he saw Gavin’s panic.

“What the bloody hell was—” Gavin’s voice descended into horrified squawks as another knife narrowly missed him. Still visible. Damn it. “What was that for?!”

“I’m not doing it.”

Another throwing knife, another squawk, and still the knife was visible. Concentrating on the knife itself, Ryan saw the color of his jacket bleed through for a moment, but when he threw the next one he couldn’t see the knife at all as it flew. It may have been a bit dangerous, but luckily his trajectory had been on and Gavin was once again spared from harm.

“If it’s not you, then who— _Ryan!”_ Gavin pointed an accusatory finger.

How disappointing. Ray turned back to face him, looking the tiniest bit amused. Gavin huffed, face tinging pink when he scowled at Ryan, who dropped the line and let himself become visible.

“What the bloody hell was that for, Ryan?”

Ryan just shrugged. Gavin stalked forward, cell phone in hand, and pushed it into Ryan’s chest. Flipping around, he stalked back to Ray and called over his shoulder “I’m not target practice!” before he disappeared completely up the hill and back to the house.

“I’m surprised you fucked with him.”

“I fuck with everyone.” Ryan answered and grinned. Ray couldn’t see Ryan’s expression, he knew that, but Ray grinned back.

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“He needs it every once in awhile.” Ryan shrugged again and began to pick up his knives. “He’s in a bit of a tizzy over someone trying to steal his boyfriend.”

Ray’s face fell, something tight taking the place of the small vindictive grin that had been there before. “I’m not trying to steal his boyfriend.”

“No,” Ryan agreed, “which is why he needs to be fucked with a little.”

“Why do you work with him?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t quite expecting this to turn into an actual talk. “Same reason I’m working with you. Shall we?”

Ray didn’t look satisfied, but he nodded and Ryan pulled again, watching his own body disappear.


	20. Chapter 20

Geoff watched bemusedly from the window of the master bedroom as Michael rose off the lawn, arms flailing theatrically as he tried to stabilize himself. Gavin stood in the grass, squinting up against the sun to watch Michael rise. A grin stretched across his face, which he turned to share with Haywood, who only shook his head and moved around the side of the house, heading to the front yard. 

_ Probably to do his morning rounds. _

A knock came from the door, but the door opened almost immediately after, so he knew it was Jack. Ray never came in without verbal permission, despite how many times they told him he was more than welcome. Geoff wondered sometimes if they would ever get to that point with him.

“What are you doing holed up in here?”

“Watching Michael and Gavin play in the backyard.”

“You realize how creepy that sounds, right?”

“Heh,” Geoff turned to Jack, eyebrows raised and thumb jerked toward the window, “they’re playing Peter Pan.”

“Is that what they call it nowadays? Just yesterday Gavin was referring to it as practice.” Jack’s eyes slid from Geoff to the window. His head tilted and his expression turned from confused to amused. 

Prompted to turn around, Geoff visibly startled. His sharp yelp of “Dicks!” echoed through the large bedroom and he flipped off Michael, whose face was still pressed against the window in some grotesque form of mocking him. He could hear the laughter through the window and Michael floated up some more and out of sight.

“Fucking kids. Christ.” 

Jack barked out a laugh. “It’s not like you didn’t deserve that, peeping on them.”

“Don’t say it like that!” He carefully peeked out again, and jumped again when Michael descended, this time upside down, flipping him right back off with both hands as he slowly passed the window. Geoff stuck his tongue out and hurriedly closed the blinds. “I’m assuming you wanted something?”

“Just hadn’t seen you all day. What have you been doing, besides watching them?”

“Thinking.” Geoff answered honestly. “It’s only been a week, Jack, and already we’ve made so much progress. Ray even said he and Haywood have been working on the invisibility thing.”

Moving further into the room, Jack took a seat on the edge of the bed, hand smoothing down the unmade bed. “Somehow, Geoff, things really are working out.”

“You do realize the potential of all this, right? I’ve seen flashes of the future, you know, little things like the six of us out at the bar, a food fight in the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, shit, girls imagine their married life will be, right? But it’s so much different actually living it. Yesterday with Ray, I caught a glimpse of the destruction we can bring and it’s…”

How could he say it without sounding crazy?

“ _ Magical. _ ”

Geoff watched Jack carefully, studied the emotions running across his face. A bit of doubt, mostly steadfast and stoic.

“That’s great, but did you see anything about the Corpirate? Where he’s holed up? How we kill him?”

Always practical, dependable Jack. The realistic to balance Geoff’s dreamer nature. It was annoying from time to time, but in this instance, Geoff felt a bit of shame.

“I haven’t been seeing him for the last three sessions. Listen, I still remember everything about that night, Jack, but right now I don’t have any other leads. I don’t know where it takes place or when, just that we barely scrape through as the  _ six _ of us.”

Jack sighed. “Things have been quiet lately. I expected to try and juggle work with the chaos that is those three and it’s been the opposite. They’ve been strangely reasonable and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Jack,” Geoff started, voice low as a warning. They’d been over this.

“I know,” Jack put his hands up, eyes lowered to the floor, “but I’ve been prepared anyways.”

Geoff couldn’t exactly fault him for that. But he also couldn’t ignore the way Ryan Haywood smiled at them in the visions, even if it was with blood on his face. He couldn’t ignore Michael and Gavin laughing in the backyard here and now.

Geoff opened his mouth to say something profound and inspiring, but then Jack’s phone beeped loudly. After having fished it out of the back pocket of his jeans, Jack glanced at the message and frowned.

“Lindsay’s here.” 

Geoff frowned, wondering what she would be doing here. “You did tell them we weren’t taking visitors, right?”

“Yes. Something’s happened.” Jack stood, returned the phone to his pocket, and as soon as he reached the door to the bedroom and pulled it open, they heard the yelling. “ _ Shit! _ ”

Jack immediately took off running with Geoff right behind, already dreading the scene they were about to be met with.

“Lindsay, hey, it’s fine!” That was Ray.

Jack practically ripped the front door open and they were met with Ray, hands up and stood in front of Lindsay. Haywood was stood off to the left, gun in hand. It wasn’t raised, but the fact that he was holding a weapon in hand was enough to be nervous about.

“What the actual  _ fuck _ , Ray? We don’t have time for this! Where’s Geoff?” Lindsay snarled, eyes wide and trained on Haywood.

“Lindsay, calm down.” Jack started, and when he moved forward, Lindsay stepped back, revealing her own gun drawn and raised. “He’s with us.”

“What do you mean, _ with us _ ?” She asked slowly, eyes kept trained on Haywood.

Geoff knew Jack and Ray would have a better handle on filling Lindsay in, so he maneuvered slowly to Ryan and spoke quietly.

“That’s Lindsay. She’s with us. No one knew about this little team up, so please excuse,” Geoff made a noncommittal gesture with his hand, “ _ this _ .”

There was quiet arguing from behind them, not that Geoff was really listening. Michael and Gavin also chose that moment to creep around the side of the house, cautious and ready. Geoff waved them over, and like hesitant dogs, they came.

“Geoff?”

“Hey, guys, so one of our crew came unannounced. She wasn’t filled in on this little experiment of ours so she’s a bit freaked out. We’re going to take her inside and explain what’s going on, so if you could do me a favor and stay in the backyard, that’d be awesome.”

With a quick look over his shoulder, he could see Jack and Ray ushering her inside quickly. Her hands were shaking, but her knuckles were white with how hard she gripped her gun.

“We’re your dirty little secret, huh?” Michael was clearly unimpressed.

“Aw, Geoffrey,” Gavin protested, “we should meet the crew, right?”

“Look, guys,” Geoff started, but Ryan holstered the gun and turned. Two hands landed heavily on Michael and Gavin’s shoulders and pushed. The two got the hint and the three of them disappeared around the side of the house.

With a frustrated sigh, Geoff shook his head and entered the house. The front door beeped behind him. Lindsay was sat on the couch, hands still wrapped around her gun. She was leant forward, her red dyed hair cascading over her shoulders to shadow her face. Upon approaching, he noticed very quickly that Jack was white as a sheet, stood shocked next to her. Ray was on the other side of her, hands fisted and lips drawn into a thin line.

His stomach bottomed out. 

“What happened?” He asked, voice on the edge of angry, but drowned with worry.

“Corpirate fucked us up the ass, took a pic, and showed it to all of our friends.” Ray’s bitter tone edged closer to murderous, and despite the sarcasm, it was obvious he was disturbed.

“Who’s dead?” Lindsay shook her head, looking pained. “ _ Who’s dead, Lindsay?” _

“I can tell you who is alive.” She answered, and he could hear the quiver in her voice. “B-team is okay. We were on the opposite side, locking down the West end negotiations. Anyone at main base is gone. Craig was the one who came and told us.”

“Fuck.” Geoff swallowed hard. He needed a fucking drink. “Caleb? Kdin?”

“Gone.” Lindsay answered, devastated. “Everyone is,  _ gone _ , Geoff.”

“ _ Fuck _ .” Jack breathed, and sunk down into the couch beside her. “ _ Fuck _ !”

Geoff took one single shaky inhale. There wasn’t time to mourn, he knew that. When he looked back at Lindsay, trembling and rigid at the same time, he wanted to. There wasn’t time to mourn but he could thank whatever deity he didn’t believe in that she was safe. That B-team was as well. At least some of them lived. They needed to focus on that. 

“This is bad as dicks, but we’re gonna take care of you, Linds. You and B-team are priority, so it’s a good thing you know about the others now. We didn’t think you’d agree, but we need them. The Vagabond and his two partners are temporarily teaming up with us. It was to prevent something like this from happening, but it’s obvious we were too little too late. I’m so sorry.” Geoff’s voice broke at the end of his short speech, the faces of those lost coming back to him.

The shake of her head sent long red locks swinging back and forth. “If we hadn’t been investigating like Jack said — ”

At the mention of his name, Jack pulled her into a hug, cradled her head, and kissed the top of it. “I’m so glad. I’m so sorry and so glad.”

The voice that came next was low, filled with loathing. “I didn’t join this crew to get my ass kicked, Geoff.”

She pulled herself from Jack, and the strength despite the shock and horror of the situation reminded Geoff starkly of just how much they depended on Lindsay. She was rosy and kind, silly and relaxed, but when things went to shit, she got down to business. She strategized with them, organized meetings, negotiated with dangerous people, and smiled the entire way through it.

She was the strength he would draw from now, whether she knew that or not.

“I know.” Geoff closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to need B-team to relocate to safe house Green.”

She snapped her head up, eyes red and brimming with tears. “You want us that far out?”

“We need to keep you guys safe. You let us handle the rest of this.”

“Craig said they were completely overpowered. They’ve got Sources.” She swiped the back of her hand across her nose and sniffed quietly. “There’s no way we could beat them.”

“Not with just us, no.” Geoff admitted quietly. “That’s what the Vagabond is for. I know it sucks, but I need you to tell me everything you know.”

“I wasn’t there. Craig’s the one who saw it go down.” Lindsay took in a shaky breath and straightened her back a bit. “We had to split up because the idiot didn’t think about being tailed. He wasn’t, at least we don’t think so, but still.”

“Fucking idiot.” Ray murmured and shook his head. “We really should just drop the guy.”

“He’s useful, now more than ever.” Jack argued quietly, still pale and he swallowed hard. “Does he know anything else? Where they came from? How they got in?”

“Nothing. But yesterday we got confirmation on that intel you wanted.” Lindsay heaved a small sigh. “It took ages for us to get a hold of, but we managed to get the floor plans and a vague idea of how it all works in there.”

“Good. Thank you.” Geoff pulled her up off of the couch and enveloped her in a gentle hug. “Seriously Lindsay, I’m glad all of you are okay. Return to the others, get to safe house Green, and start funeral arrangements for — for everyone who didn’t make it out. Don’t leave zone Green until you get the all clear.”

Releasing her, Geoff turned around. He didn’t look at Ray, couldn’t look at Jack at the moment. Instead he marched down the hall, entered his office, and poured himself a glass of vodka. He downed it, slammed the glass on the desk, grimaced at the bitter taste in his mouth that wouldn’t go away, and then opened the closet door in the office. The suit jacket was kept in pristine condition, one of the only things he was meticulous about. Sliding one arm through, he pulled the expensive jacket on, and buttoned the single obsidian button on the front. 

Fingers combed briefly through his mustache, and then down his cheeks. He eyed the empty glass on the desk, licking his lips as he debated. Instead of another drink, he blinked hard a few times and took a few deep breaths. 

Most of his crew was dead. If Lindsay hadn’t been so proactive on the task Jack had given her, she wouldn’t have taken the B-team and he’d have lost everything. Countless visions, and all of it felt useless. He should have  _ seen _ . Somewhere in the mess of images every Tuesday, he should have  _ seen it _ .

Once a week wasn’t enough anymore. They needed to bump it up, but with Ray needing to link with Michael and Haywood, it would be difficult to pull him away without completely wiping him out. And if Lindsay had been tailed, another strike could come. They couldn’t afford not knowing, but as always, there was no guarantee that he would see the right things. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. On the dead friends, on territory lost, on the sick feeling in his stomach. He was the boss. It was time to tighten his belt and do what he did best.

Shoulders straight, chin up, he marched out of the office and further down the hall, to where another living area remained mostly untouched. Beyond that was the sliding glass door that opened to the backyard.

He could see Haywood, Michael, and Gavin standing in a small circle. Gavin looked concerned, Michael had his back to the door, and of course Haywood still had his mask on. When Geoff pulled open the door they all went quiet and turned to look at him.

“Gather up, dickheads, we’ve got some planning to do.”

 

* * *

 

Despite deliberately putting on a show of being annoyed, Michael was growing nervous. Ray looked ready for murder, but in that focused, detached way that was starting to make him uncomfortable. While Ray was pretty stone faced in general, Michael had pulled some pretty dumb jokes and quips out of him and he even smiled every once in awhile. For him to be so shut down with an angry glaze over his eyes that Michael recognized as someone plotting violence was a painful reminder that he was in a crew again. There were things he was going to be expected to do and while he had no objections to doing them, what it meant for Gavin was putting him on edge.

Geoff was talking and Michael tried to listen but it was hard when Jack looked as if he was about to faint in his chair. The war room was small, in a part of the house Michael wasn’t able to sneak into because it was locked and secured heavily. There were maps of the city, tacks put into cork boards to signify something Michael didn’t know. On the table was a bigger map of the city, and Geoff had drawn thick dark circles around two buildings and he was still talking, low and terse.

“If we’re going to pull this off we’re going to need all of us, working together. No backtalk, no backstabs, just a mission to carry out so we don’t end up dead like — ” Geoff’s voice hitched, and he spoke softer, “ — so we don’t end up dead.”

“This sounds like a tit for tat.” Ryan grumbled. “If you want to send a message, we need to strike fear back into him. We need to do what he just did to you and cripple him so he can’t come back at us.”

“We can’t just lunge at the snake’s head.” Jack argued. “We can barely function with our powers. We need to strike small, figure out how we work as a team first.”

“Exactly.” Geoff agreed, “which is why this is going to work. We need to take one alive, get the location of his biggest weakness and strike there. Right now I don’t have  _ dick  _ on him.”

“Not to mention he’s expecting retaliation.” Ray spoke up from his corner of the room, arms crossed and hood drawn up over his hair. “If we strike back fairly weak, he’s going to underestimate us and not expect the next attack. He’s going to set up an ambush at any important location.”

“So we strike his… what is it again?”

“Distillery.” Geoff offered a breathy snort. “Bastard loves his fucking beer. Ran out three of the largest distilleries in the city. He’s a businessman first, remember, and it’s going to really piss him off that his precious supply of primo booze is hit.”

“We need to nab a distribution guy. Those guys have all the routes, know every single location the Corpirate hangs out at. The asshole is slippery, and we’re going to need to narrow down the choices.” Jack stood, still looking pale and worn. “We strike in a week. We’re going to need the time to practice.”

“Speaking of,” Geoff straightened and clapped his hands together, “now that we know each other, it’s time we take this seriously. Gavin, Jack, and I have been working on something that is going to be essential moving forward.”

Michael flicked his eyes to Gavin, who looked torn between proud and bashful. What the hell had they been working on? He hadn’t said a word about it, just played it off as simple linking practice. Obviously that was bullshit. Bitterness and anger crept in, heating his face but he kept quiet and watched as Gavin fidgeted in his seat. Ryan moved a bit closer behind him, and Michael hoped with all his being that Ryan was equally out of the loop. If he was only one kept in the dark about whatever was going to happen next he was going to kill someone.

“Jack can read minds, but that isn’t all. He can speak directly through, and it turns out that it’s not limited to one person at a time.” Geoff’s lips curled into something devious. “No fucking radios for someone to tap into, instant communication long range, and we keep silent the entire time.”

“We managed to get it to work between the three of us.” Jack added, “It took some time, but I’ve figured out how to filter the thoughts, so it won’t cause a mess. Don’t worry, I won’t be prying into anyone’s private thoughts. Only what you want heard through the link will be sent to the others. But it goes to everyone connected, and not just a singular person.”

Well that’s… surprisingly very fucking useful. The anger started to dissipate, and Michael let his shoulders relax with a small exhale. Looking over at Ray, however, and Michael could tell he wasn’t pleased. 

“It was Gavin’s idea,” Geoff started again, “and we’ve been working on sourcing to two of us at once.”

Michael furrowed his brows. “Are you serious? You guys really haven’t done that before?”

“Geoff’s power isn’t exactly something you use in tandem with something else.” Ray all but snapped. Jack gave him a look, but Ray ignored it and kept his eyes trained on Geoff, cold and calculating.

“We need to be smart about this.” Geoff came back with. “We have eight powers to pick from now, instead of just two, which opens up a world of possibilities. Jack and I have been working on a few different strategies to use.”

“It’s pretty obvious that the right choice is to swap Sources while we infiltrate.” Ryan piped up from behind Michael and he whipped around. 

What the fuck? They were supposed to get Ray on their side, yes, but to just straight out trust Gavin in Jack and Geoff’s hands was a bit like throwing a lamb to the wolves. Gavin could barely defend himself, and if this was all some rouse like they half expected, they were fucked. 

Ray wasn’t like Gavin. He was just as dangerous as the Michael and Ryan, and if what Ryan said was true, he had quite the reputation as a sniper. All it would take was a moment of weakness and they’d end up with bullets to the back and these fuckers would have Gavin.

Not that he didn’t trust Ray — he did, but it was easier when he had Gavin and Ryan right there to back him up. To be separated ignited some sort of fucked up separation anxiety that had been rooted deep within him.

“What?” Ray asked, and his arms unfolded slowly, hands twitching into loose fists at his side. He and Michael felt similarly, it seemed.

“He’s right.” Jack inched closer to the table littered in maps. He tapped his index finger against the paper. “Right now the best combinations are Geoff, Gavin, and I, and you, Michael, and Haywood. We need the invisibility to get in, cut feeds to cameras, and take out perimeter security. I know you have a longer range than Gavin, so as long as you stick close to the edge of the building, Haywood should be able to sneak around inside.”

“As soon as he’s taken care of security, you and Michael will blast the doors on the North side and start wrecking shop.” Geoff brushed Jack’s hand away to drag a finger along the dark lines he’d drawn earlier. “We will be on the other side looking for our delivery man. Jack and Gavin will stay linked so we can all communicate through the entire thing. I’ll create a fog, let it roll in outside so they don’t see us approach.”

It wasn’t a bad plan, laid out like that. Their team created a distraction while Gavin’s team nabbed the delivery man. It utilized everyone’s powers and it kept Gavin relatively safe since Michael, Ryan, and Ray would be receiving most of the heat. The only thing left was to trust that it wasn’t a plot to kill them. Not that they hadn’t had plenty of chances in the last week to do so.

“You have weapons?” Ryan asked, when Michael knew for damn certain that he knew the answer already. The second they had been able to talk, Michael spilled every detail he possibly could about their armory.

“Whatever you need, I can get. But it won’t take much to take the distillery down. He won’t see it coming and neither will they. It isn’t heavily guarded, or so our intel said.”

Michael looked to Gavin. He hadn’t said a word through this entire conversation. Instead, Gavin was intently staring at the map, eyes flicking back and forth on occasion. Michael could practically hear the cogs turning in his head.

“Are we cool?” Geoff asked, and Michael snapped his attention back to Ryan, who nodded. “Michael, Ray, Gavin?”

Ray’s lips were drawn thin. It couldn’t be more obvious he was just as doubtful as Michael, but he gave a noncommittal shrug as an answer and left the room. Gavin nodded and went back to the map.

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” Michael decided on, and looked out after Ray.

“He’s still dealing with everything.” Jack murmured next to him. “Let him have his space for a while. He processes things alone.”

It wasn’t like there was anything he could say anyways. He blew up his last crew. Losing so many people to an outside threat wasn’t something he’d had experience with.

 

* * *

 

The week of  extra practice was long, arduous, and annoying. Gavin was constantly sourcing, and consequently sleeping off the fatigue it brought. He was still building up a tolerance, and while Jack’s powers were relatively light in terms of strain, the length of time they’d need to be connected was draining.

The times Michael did catch him awake without the others expecting to draw from him, he found Gavin hunched in front of the computer, typing away. He didn’t say much even when Michael was being an asshole.

The distance was frustrating.

Ryan, on the other hand, was up his ass constantly. ‘How are things with Ray?’ this, ‘What weakness can we exploit?’ that. The guy didn’t have a single loyal bone in his body. Not that Michael could really blame him. He wasn’t exactly confident in this plan, no matter how easy Geoff and Jack made it sound.

But they needed to gain trust somehow, and if everything went well, then hell, maybe Gavin’s plan to use Ramsey to strong arm Ryan might actually work. But with Gavin pulling away from him, he was getting more and more nervous.

And that led him to sticking around Ray more often.

Ray, despite being constantly stressed out, was also chill as fuck. He pulled low key references out of his ass that had Michael laughing hysterically, and when Michael wasn’t laughing, they were practicing blowing shit up with his new powers.

Blowing shit up relieved every ounce of stress in his body. Ryan’s annoying pestering didn’t faze him when he was drinking a beer and watching Gavin work on the computer after destroying a good third of the back yard. He and Gavin didn’t argue anymore since Gavin didn’t bother talking to him half the time, and when he was bored of watching Gavin work and tired of planning a backstabbing, he went right back to Ray.

The day of attack arrived, and it was decided that they would go in seperate vehicles. Ray joined Ryan in one car, and Jack and Geoff hopped in the other. Just as Gavin was about to get in the backseat of Geoff’s car, Michael caught him by the arm.

“Hey,” Michael started, and when Gavin looked at him, he nearly forgot what he was going to say. Gavin looked confused and almost a little annoyed, and Michael almost became an asshole again in reaction. He reigned it in and in a soft voice continued, “be careful, Gav, okay? I won’t be far, and we’ll come get you if you need it.”

The annoyance faded and Gavin offered a small smile. “I know, Michael. You’re the one who should be careful. You’ll blow yourself up if you’re not, boi.”

Michael snorted and knocked him with his shoulder. “Shut up. I’ve gotten pretty good at it the last couple of days. Just you watch, Gavvy, I’ll send these fuckers up into ash.”

“I look forward to it.”

They didn’t kiss, but all the same it felt as if they had. Michael hopped into the passenger seat and Ryan immediately took the lead. Ray loaded and reloaded in the back seat, Ryan kept silent, and so Michael was left to his thoughts the entire ride over to the distillery.

It wasn’t the longest car ride, and by the time they found a good spot on the North side Jack’s voice was already in his head.

_ Michael, can you hear me? _

_ Loud and clear. _

It wasn’t something he was ever going to get used to, hearing voice in his head. But soon after he heard Gavin, then Ryan, and Ray after that. 

_ Stick to the plan. Nab the son of a bitch and bring him back to us. Everyone else can die, I don’t give a fuck. _

Right. They took to taking cover two buildings North. The distillery was fairly big, but it remained in a fairly rural spot. They needed the room for the trucks to get in and out and so the distance between businesses in the area were fairly big. At least two trucks at a time could fit in between, and thanks to that, the fog that Michael could see slowly rolling in would have more effect. 

_ How’s it look down there boys? _ Jack asked, sounded amused. Geoff must have been having a blast.

_ More fog. It needs to thicken.  _ Ryan, on the other hand, didn’t sound as if he cared about this mission at all. Michael couldn’t fathom why, they were about to kick some ass.

_ One fog storm comin’ right up!  _

Oh yeah, Geoff was enjoying this entirely too much based on the soft snort that came from Ray, behind him. They let the fog thicken and swirl, taking careful account of every moving body before they disappeared in the milky white.

“Okay, let’s move.” Ryan ordered, and he was gone.

_ Vagabond is on the move.  _ Ray reported.

“We’ll see if he actually tells us the door’s open.” Michael muttered. “Bossy bitch doesn’t exactly like to share kill counts.”

Ray snorted again. “He’d better or I’ll snap his line. I’ve been looking forward to spilling blood.”

Michael offered a small shrug. “As long as I get to blow the fucking place up I don’t care who kills how many.”

“Good, because I don’t plan on sharing much either.”

_ It’s open. Move. _

“Told you he’s bossy.” Michael grumbled, and they moved through the fog. Michael nearly tripped on a body, smearing his sneakers in blood instead. Which was a real shame because he wasn’t really looking to leave footprints. Now he’d need to blow up a bigger radius. Well damn, he thought. What a problem.

Ray snuck ahead of him, and he heard the gasps of two more men going down. By the time he reached inside, Ray was already halfway down the corridor, gun drawn and firing.

“Alright, well,” Michael muttered to himself and rounded a corner with his own assault rifle drawn. His luck was not great, as a trail of bodies led him to the staircase that Ryan had no doubt climbed to nab the distributer. “Damn it.” 

Fine, he’d just go back to Ray’s corridor instead. Following the blood, he rounded another corner just to get clocked in the face with a bottle. He fell to the floor with a groan and blinked away the dark spots only to get clocked again, this time the bottle shattered over his shoulder.

“Fucking  _ ow! _ ” Michael snarled, and struck out with a lucky punch to a groin. Whoever hit him went down instantly. “Bitch!” 

He raised his gun to shoot the asshole but someone else tackled him down to the ground. His rifle slid from his grip across the floor. Panic hit him momentarily when whoever was on top of him reached for it, but two quiet pips and the guy fell on top of him, limp. With a frustrated groan, he pushed the man off of him and sat up to see Ray breathing heavy, one eye closed in a wince.

“Thanks,” he muttered,and stepped on the dead man’s hand as he retrieved his gun. “you kill everyone?”

“This way, yeah.” 

Michael nodded sharply, and asked, “You still linked to Ryan?”

“Yeah, but he just dropped the line.”

_ Got him.  _ There was a sing song way about Ryan’s report.

_ Good. Fog’s starting to thin out here, so you three should skedaddle.  _ Jack’s voice had something underneath it that Michael couldn’t discern, but Ray seemed to recognize it , as he answered back.

_ All clear, plenty of ammo left. _

_ How you doin’, Gavvy? _ Michael couldn’t help but ask.  _ You ready for a show? _

It took a minute for Gavin to answer, and his heart lurched for a second.

_ Ready. _

He was probably just trying to concentrate on feeding two lines at once, especially when one was in constant use. Michael took a breath and followed Ray back to the North entrance. There were voices outside in the fog, and Michael could see shadows but before he could even raise his gun Ray was already firing.

The blank look on his face was a little startling, compared to the slightly pained expression from before. Speaking of…

“Hey, you okay?”

Ray turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Your eye.” Michael pointed to his own, as if that explained everything. “It was all squinty and shit.”

“I’m fine. Your ass alright? You looked like you hit it pretty hard back there.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael couldn’t help the upward twitch of his lips. The teasing was nice from time to time. Gavin just laughed and one upped him, and fucking Ryan sounded condescending when he tried. “As soon as Ryan gets his lazy ass out back out here I’m gonna blow this shit.”

_ Ryan, where the fuck are you? _

_ Chill. I’m almost there. _

_ Hurry your ass up. _

_ Aw, Ry-an!  _ Gavin squealed and both Michael and Ray winced at the sound. Laughter from Jack and Geoff joined Gavin’s squeak of a laugh.

_ What is so goddamn funny? _

_ Michael, hehe cut one up Michael! _

_ That is fucking funny, Haywood. _

_ It’s so gross though! Ugh.  _ Despite Jack’s disgust, laughter followed.

_ Would one of you assholes just tell us what he did?  _ Ray sounded about as fed up as Michael felt.

_ Haywood got a little creative and made a crown of fingers and toes. He put it on some guy’s head and hung it out the second story window. It’s funny as dicks. _

Michael blinked and looked at Ray, who shook his head with a tiny smile. Michael let out a giggle before they saw Ryan hobbling out with a sobbing man at gunpoint.

“Are you done fucking around?” Michael asked, smile gone from both of their faces. “This the guy we need?"

“Better be.” Ryan answered with a shrug. “Or I’ll be making another crown.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s gross.” Ray wrinkled his nose as they walked back. He spotted one more in the fog and shot three times. The shadow dropped and didn’t get back up again.

As soon as Ryan manhandled the guy into the car, Michael turned and jutted his chin at Ray. “We good?”

“Gimme a sec.” Ray responded and Michael watched him scan the area now that the fog had dissipated even further. “I want to make sure there’s no more alive.”

“I mean, you could leave me one.” Michael teased with a fake pout. 

“You said you didn’t care, remember?” Ray shot back, and turned to him with a thumbs up. “Go.”

Michael grinned and cracked his knuckles, dropped the rifle in hands on the ground and approached the distillery again. He was careful to leave a good bit of distance between him and building. Satisfied, he held both hands out in front of him.

_ You watching Gavvy? _

_ Yup. _

Feeling for Ray’s line, Michael stood straight up and pulled. Nothing but the distillery filled his mind and he could see the explosion in his mind. He let Ray’s energy flood his system for a minute before flicking his hands sharply. In an instant the crack of the explosion hit and Michael stumbled backwards from the force. He was far enough away to avoid the ringing in his ears, but the gust of wind shot debris into his face and he had to cover his eyes with his arm.

Smoke, thick and black rose to the sky as fire licked at what remained of the building. And boy, did alcohol love to burn. The flames roared in his ears but did drown out the internal sounds of the rest of the crew cheering. He let out a giddy laugh as the rush hit.

_ God, _ it felt good. There was nothing to compare to the feeling of wrecking something huge and tall. Especially brick. The way it crumbled, the pretty colors it held as flames swayed around it, it was art at its finest.

He felt a little sick, though. Nausea crept up and a headache was starting to form. He’d never used that much from Ray before.

Gavin’s voice was soft, like an awed sigh.  _ It was lovely, Michael. _

_ Let’s do this again sometime. _ Michael thought, and turned back to find Ray on his hands and knees. 

_ Shit! _

Michael ran, skidding to a stop on his knees next to Ray. The pavement tore up his jeans a little, but he ignored the sting of his knees and carefully hovered his hands over Ray.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Ray waved him off, and Michael took note of how pale he’d gotten.

_ What? What happened? _ Geoff’s voice was sharp.

_ Fuck, nothing! Just go. We’ll meet you back at the house. _

_ Michael _ _ — _

_ Everything’s fine. Just got a little dizzy. My reserves are shot for today. _ Ray explained, and Michael was grateful he said something. He really didn’t need Ramsey and Jack up his ass over this.

“Did I take too much?”

“No.” Ray muttered and pulled himself to his feet. “I’m just not used to Sourcing two assholes.”

Michael stayed quiet and backed up a little, ready to catch the Source should he stumble. He didn’t, just jumped into the back of the car. Ryan slammed the trunk closed and returned to the driver’s seat, turning the ignition.

“I can hear him crying back here.” Ray complained, and he sounded winded. Michael felt guilt curl up in his stomach. He reminded himself that Ryan took probably just as much energy as he did.

“I don’t want to wait for him to regain consciousness. There’s work to be done as soon as we get back.”

“Drive fast then. It’s pissing me off.”

“Is it?” Ryan hummed, and Michael watched the speedometer lower. “I quite like the sound.”

What a fucking asshole.

When they parked at the end of the driveway, Geoff, Jack, and Gavin were already there. Geoff and Jack immediately flanked Ray, who looked both annoyed and relieved. Gavin was slumped against the door of the house, shivering. He let Ryan deal with getting the distributor from the trunk and focused instead on reaching Gavin’s side.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Mm. Tired,” Gavin huffed, “it’s a right job keeping the line for so long.”

“Did they take too much?” And Michael swallowed around the words because he still felt that curl of guilt in his stomach.

“Nah, just normal. Want to sleep, Michael.”

“Okay, c’mon you baby. Let’s get you upstairs.”

Gavin made a beeline for the couch instead. He tugged at Michael until he joined him, flopped over one end of the sectional with one foot over the back of the couch and his head wedged between Michael’s side and the couch. Michael just shook his head and watched Ray trudge in. The guy waved off Geoff and Jack, looking exasperated and exhausted.

“Just sit down and I’ll grab some painkillers.”

Ray made some sort of grunting sound and stumbled to the couch, flopping face down in the space between Michael and the arm of the couch.

“Ten points. Perfect swan dive.”

There was a muffled response that sounded suspiciously like “Nailed it” but Michael couldn’t be sure. Either way, Ray stayed that way until Jack coaxed him up with water and pills. Michael received a concerned glance from the bearded man, but it was brief and his attention was turned back to Ray, who handed him a half full glass of water back and chose to collapse back into the couch, curled up on his side just inches from Michael.

“Is Gavin okay?” Jack asked, and Michael glanced to his right to find him completely out.

“Sleeping it off.”

“Ray’s probably about to join him in a minute. You alright? Any injuries? Your cheek looks swollen.”

“Some asshole clocked me, but I’m fine. Ryan got that guy in the basement?”

Jack’s lips thinned. “Yeah. He and Geoff are going to get what we need.”

“He’ll crack easy. Won’t be much to clean up unless Ryan’s in a mood.” Michael thought of that crown of toes and fingers. “Nah, he’s definitely in a mood.”

“Yeah.” Jack looked uncomfortable, and Michael offered a small smile. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what? Blowing it up?”

“For taking care of Ray.” Jack fidgeted a moment, took a peek to see if Ray’s eyes were open. They weren’t. “He’s — He means a lot to us. I was nervous before, didn’t know if I could trust you guys but after working together like this, I think I was wrong. So thanks.”

Michael quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, you took care of Gavin, so we’re even. Long as we keep being even there’s nothing to worry about, right?”

Jack huffed a little laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Gavin shivered against his side, and a moment later Ray echoed. Jack set down the half empty cup of water on the table and opened a wooden chest next to the entertainment center. He pulled out a pile of blankets with a fond smile. After he shook out one to cover Ray, he did the same to Gavin. The third one he shook out to cover the three of them.

“You look like you could use a nap too.”

Michael frowned. “Not looking so hot either, Jack.”

Jack huffed again, tinny and amused. “Oh don’t you worry about me.”

It felt like there was something behind those words, but Ray shifted, curling around from facing the couch to facing out. The third blanket fell from his body and so Michael carefully maneuvered so he could throw it back on him. By the time he sat back, Gavin had shifted farther into him and he ended up sandwiched sideways between them. Ray didn’t seem to care and Gavin was completely out, so with cheeks mildly heated, Michael put his feet up on the coffee table and got comfortable.

Jack was right. He  _ could  _ use a nap.

**Author's Note:**

> t- Thank you for joining us! This is going to be a long haul type of fic and we are very excited to bring it to you! We will be working on getting a new chapter out every Sunday, so stay tuned!
> 
> EM- Come say hi at vaguelyreferential.tumblr.com! :D I wanna know what you think!


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